


Nuclear Reactions

by robberreynard



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 53
Words: 67,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robberreynard/pseuds/robberreynard
Summary: Every companions react from my blog nuclear-reactions





	1. Fallout 3 companions react to MacCready all grown up

**Author's Note:**

> This includes pretty much every reaction I've done up until now and will be updated with future reactions. Reacts will be cross posted between here and tumblr in light of recent changes to the site.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fallout 3 companions react to seeing MacCready all grown up.

Butch- He’d never really liked the snot nosed brat, or any of the kids from Little Lamplight for that matter. MacCready never hid his distaste for the mungos that invaded his space either. Still, it fills him with an odd sense of relief to see most of the rugrats made it out of DC alive, including the foul mouthed spitfire himself. He claps MacCready on the shoulder and drags him out for a drink with his new gang (though they don’t have a catchy name like the Tunnel Snakes), over which he’ll regale the Commonwealth crew with embarrassing stories the Wanderer told him about everyone’s (second) favorite Mayor. 

Charon- He can see he’s grown up quick, ten short years carving hard lines on his face. That was the law of the wasteland, after all. No one was allowed to be a kid for long. He remembers the way MacCready and the rest of Little Lamplight looked at him, some with disgust, others with awe. MacCready just looked at him with suspicion, the caution he showed any smoothskin too old to be kicking around their band of misfit children. Charon had always rather liked that about him. When MacCready smirks and greets him (”If it isn’t Mr. Tall Dark and Rotting!”), the faintest smirk tugs on what’s left of Charon’s lips. “Good to see you too, kid.”

Clover- She giggles a little to herself to see the boy that used to bark at her and her lover, square jawed and handsome (not as handsome as Wanderer, but still). She draws in close, obviously too close for his comfort, and smiles with painted lips. “Look at you, all big and bold.” She taps his nose and it’s like pressing a button that makes him go red in the face. He still blushes just as fiercely as he did as a child, and his eyes are just as quick to flash to her cleavage. “Still a naughty little boy, aren’t we?” Men never changed, at 12 or 112.

Sarge- “Your weapon is being improperly maintained, soldier!” MacCready just rolls his eyes with an exasperated groan more befitting a teenager than an adult. Sarge doesn’t take sass like that from a private, and smacks him in the back of the head. “You will strip that rifle and clean it until I can see my own reflection, or I will send you crying home to that rat’s nest you call a settlement!” MacCready opens his mouth to argue, but is cut off by another solid smack. Sarge goes on to tell him only two things come out of Little Lamplight…

Jericho- He wheezes laughter so hard his chest hurts. It takes him a moment to collect himself enough to talk, and when he does, he speaks through a grin of rotted teeth; “They boot your ass out of Little Lamplight, huh? Welcome to the real world. How’s it been treating you so far?” MacCready smiles politely, but there’s a look in his eyes that says it hasn’t been good. Jericho softens a bit and chuckles. “Yeah,” he says, “Wasteland’s a real bitch, ain’t she?” He offers him a cigarette. MacCready accepts. The two sit on a roof in Sanctuary and make sure their conversation never ventures into territory either will regret asking about.

Fawkes- MacCready still cringes when Fawkes comes up to him, but, Fawkes rationalizes, he has much more of a reason to be uncomfortable around the Super Mutant that towers over him. He’s probably had much more dealings with others like him since the last time they saw each other. He shakes his hand, dwarfing him entirely. “I trust you’re doing well?” MacCready shrugs and answers, “Hanging in there.” Fawkes can’t help thinking of the kids trying to climb him like a jungle gym, and seeing him again, is reminded of the news Wanderer shared with him a few years ago, when they excitedly babbled about being a god parent. “Robert. I… am truly sorry about Lucy. And little Duncan, is he…?” He lets the question hang on an unsure note. MacCready sighs quietly, “He’ll be ok. Thanks, Fawkes.”

Paladin Cross- Much like Wanderer, MacCready is far different from the last time she saw him. Cross shows him a rare familiarity and hugs him. He’s stiff, but doesn’t refuse it. She heard about everything that had happened in the past ten years, Wanderer had kept a watchful eye on him, after all, but let few know of any news they discovered. Cross was one of those few. She hugs him a little tighter and speaks quietly, “It does my heart good to know you’re still going.” MacCready says nothing, yet some of the rigidity melts.

Dogmeat- He’s gotten old, the effect of the past ten years much more prominent in the dog’s limp and cataracted eyes and patchy fur than it is on MacCready’s weathered face. He touches Dogmeat very gently as if he was made of glass, smiles a little painfully when a tongue laps weakly at his palm. “Hey there boy,” he all but whispers. He lets him lay across his lap, stroking him behind the ear for the next few hours, telling him everything that happened since the last time Wanderer brought him down to see the kids. Dogmeat always was the best listener.


	2. Fallout 4 companions react to Valentine's Day Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fallout 4 companions react to getting a Valentine's Day gift from Sole

 

Hancock- A soldered heart shaped box, filled with Mentats and chocolate is left on his pillow when he wakes up that morning. Compared to pipe pistols and chest armor, this is far from Sole’s best work at the crafting bench. It’s still more thoughtful than anything he’s gotten before. He pops one chunk of chocolate and one pill and ventures out of his room to find Sole sitting on a stool in the kitchen, donning John Hancock’s tri-corner hat and coat, but little else. Ol’ John is probably spinning in his grave, but the only thing the current Hancock really thinks is they’re the most beautiful creature to wear that outfit in a long time. If ever. He runs his rough fingers over Sole’s inner thigh, doesn’t wait for them to wish him a Happy Valentine’s Day before he seals his mouth over theirs. They snicker that he tastes like candy and a mellow high. The rest of the day is spent entwined in ropes of sheets and the sleeves of his threadbare jacket.

Danse- Having never been given something this lovingly crafted, he isn’t sure how to handle it. He almost doesn’t want to put the soft, slightly misshapen scarf around his neck, for fear of ripping it. It didn’t help it had a few holes where Sole apparently missed a stitch. They’re staring at him expectantly though, so he wraps it a few times around to rest under his chin and looks back at them. “Thank you. I ah… appreciate the thought.” He’s unsure what to do next. Actually, he knows exactly what he wants to do next, but isn’t sure how to go about doing it. Sole sees the intentions on his face and kisses him gently on the lips, arms wrapping around his thick frame. The yarn of the scarf is warm and soft, and he doesn’t take it off the rest of the day. When anyone points it out, he’s quick to explain, boasting a little; “Sole made it for me.”

Nick - He finds a pack of cigarettes waiting atop the desk by the door and a trail of Hubflower petals leading around the corner toward Sole’s room. There’s a message written on the box. “Can you track me down, detective?” It doesn’t take an ace detective to find where the trail leads. Sole waits in the armchair beside the bed, one leg crossed over the other, giving him with a sly look. Bright purple flowers form a heart pierced by an arrow similar to the one on his sign. Sole stands, crosses the room to him, and poses dramatically.  
“Oh, Mr. Valentine. You found me despite my best efforts to evade capture.” They offer their wrists up. “Guess you’ll have to take me in.” Nick wraps an arm around their waist, pinning his hip against theirs.  
“You couldn’t think of a more challenging setup? That was hardly a case deserving of my skills.”  
“We could just skip the good parts and play a game of Clue?” He doesn’t tell them how nice that actually sounds. He’s spending the day with the person he cares about the most, and that’s more than he ever thought he’d deserve.

Curie- Sole tries to explain the significance of candy and flowers on February 13th, but beyond the historical data and what little information had been loaded into her memory banks, Curie just doesn’t understand the need for any of these ceremonies. All she knows is that Sole is beaming when Curie puts on the bracelet made of shoe string and leather, and doesn’t stop kissing her the entire day. She asks if Valentine’s Day only comes once a year. Sole pets her hair and tells her it can be whatever day she wants.

MacCready- The whole exchange of gifts and heart shaped trinkets seems so childish in retrospect. Maybe he’s bitter, maybe he’s too jaded too young, but seeing the decorations around Diamond City just makes him cringe. There are heart shaped papers littering everything. The noodles Takahashi makes for him have a squirt of hot sauce in the shape of a heart. He pokes apathetically at them until he ruins the vague outline. Sole slides into the seat next to him with a bundle of cloth in their arms. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” For them, he withholds a sigh, and the airy tone in their voice is enough to make him smile despite his objections to the holiday. He unwraps the cloth, expecting something to do with anatomically incorrect hearts. Instead he finds a rifle. Carved in the side of the patchwork weapon’s barrel is the word “CUPID”. He lights up and flings his arms around their neck, begging a little too eagerly to take it out for a spin.

Deacon- He tells Sole they celebrated Valentine’s Day a lot different in the 1840’s, when he was a boy in Romania. His stories have gotten silly and too far fetched for anyone to believe as of late, at least when Sole was with him. They just titter quietly. They reach in their pocket, for a pack of smokes, he thinks at first. A moment later they pull out a folded up piece of paper. Deacon takes it and opens it, and inside there was a sketchy pencil drawing that was unmistakeably Sole leaning over to kiss him while he sleeps. “I couldn’t find a camera. Figured this was the next best thing?” He holds the piece of paper close to himself.  
“Heh… Thanks. This is… a lot more than I expected.” They both know he didn’t get them anything in return, a fact he would have correct soon. It would be hard to top this. Deacon couldn’t draw and despite often quoting literature, he was shit at poetry. He tries to brush this thought away for now and holds up the drawing. “But do I really look like that?”  
Sole rolls their shoulders in a shrug. “How am I supposed to know what you really look like?”  
“Fair point,” he says. He leans in to kiss Sole on the cord in their neck.

Preston- His face is hot as he finally picks up the courage to shove a box of Fancy Lad Snackcakes into Sole’s arms, just in time to nearly collide with them as they shove a card into his. The words “Happy Valenti-” just barely escape their lips in near perfect harmony. They freeze. Preston finally clears his throat and hands off the cakes a little slower this time. “You first, General.” Sole sheepishly hands him their gift once they’d taken theirs. They stuff one of the treats into their mouth (presumably so they don’t say something stupid) while Preston examines the face of the card, upon which there’s a crude drawing of plain mashed potatoes. He assumes. It’s hard to tell. “What’s the sweetest topping in the world?” it says above it in bubble font. “Preston Gravy!” it says inside, accompanied by another drawing of the same pile of mashed potatoes, only with a cartoon of him sitting on the white hill with his stick figure arms held above his head. He doesn’t mean to laugh, but it slips out anyway, and he can’t stop it no matter how rude he thinks it is.  
“I couldn’t think of a romance-y pun,” Sole explains through a mouthful of cake, their cheeks cherry red. Once Preston manages to stop himself, now reassured that he’s not the worse Valentine between the two of them, he takes them by the wrist and kisses their forehead.  
“It’s perfect, babe.”

Piper- She takes Nat by the ear once they’re back home, the third time in a month she’s had to take her sister home early from school for starting some fight. Nat complains that another boy tried to give her a box of Dandy Apples. Piper fires back that she didn’t have to give him a nosebleed, and there are far better ways to turn someone down.  
“I hope you react a little better to my valentine.” She turns to see Sole standing in her living room, arm tucked behind them. The frustration she felt towards Nat eases a bit with the surprise of their arrival. They produce a bouquet of flowers from behind their back, mostly intact Hublflowers and Carrotflowers mixed in a color clashing eyesore of a gift. She snatches it up anyway, breath catching a little.  
“Blue, you shouldn’t have!” Even though she was really hoping they would, just so she could know what courting was like before the war. The flowers end up half-crushed as she throws herself into their arms.

Cait- She collapses across Sole’s lap after a day of bashing in the faces of people who mostly deserved it. The most attention she ever really paid Valentine’s Day was when they asked her to fight in a heart bikini in the ring, so the importance of the day escapes her at first. She closes her eyes, hoping to relax and bask in her lover’s warmth, only for something sweet to brush against her lips. She cracks her eyes open to look up into Sole’s face, then down to the Tarberry dribbling juice in rivulets down her chin. “Valentine’s Day, remember?” She didn’t. She takes the berry between her teeth and holds it there as she shifts to sit up, pushing her lips against Sole’s so when the berry pops, it sweetens their kiss.  
“I can t'ink of somethin’ much better to do,” she says once she pulls away. Before Sole can protest, she’s taken them by the hand and into the bedroom, where she gives them a much more memorable use for Tarberries.

Codsworth- 210 years since the last Valentine’s Day he spent with his family, or any living soul really, he almost forgets what day it is. He only realizes when Sole appears with a cutout heart and tapes it to his chassis. He rushes so quickly at them for what could sort of be considered a hug, something tings loudly when his metal knocks against Sole’s jaw. He apologizes profusely until the swelling goes down enough for Sole to give him a peck and assure him they’ve had it worse.

X6-88- The Institute saw no reason to celebrate holidays such as this, or give Coursers even an inkling what Christmas or Valentine’s Day means. They were frivolities that educated men and women didn’t partake in. Sole approaches him with a white t-shit, upon which they’ve written “If lost return to Sole” in black paint. They’re wearing a twin shirt that reads; “I’m Sole”. X6 pulls it over his head and despite the looks and amused whispers behind his back, doesn’t take it off until the next day. “I can’t believe you put up with that,” they cackle. Being that X6 has little to no concept of embarrassment (and if he did, he wouldn’t really care), wearing that idiotic thing was worth it to see Sole glowing the way they were now. They kiss his cheek and thank him for playing along.

Strong- “This not what human heart look like!”  
“It’s not supposed to-”  
“Strong seen many human hearts! Why Strong want eat heart? Stringy! Too stringy to eat!”  
“Strong, it’s not an actual-”  
“Why heart so tiny? Blegh! Taste like dust! Valemtime Day make Strong confused!”

Dogmeat- Sole replaces the bone marrow of a Super Mutant’s shin bone with chopped Mirelurk liver. It takes him a week to chew it into oblivion. It’s the best Valentine’s Day he’s ever had.


	3. Fallout 4 companions react to Minutemen and Atom Cats merging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Companions react to SS merging the Minutemen and atom cats into one faction

Preston- The Minutemen need all the help they can get, he tells himself during poetry night. They have suits of power armor that would prove useful in combat, he justifies as they paint flames over everything. General didn’t make bad calls like this, he lies while they call Ronnie an old bat and she clips one of them upside the head. Sole is bursting with pride at their leadership skills, and looks to him with a look that begs to be told they did a good job. Like Dogmeat, he thinks. Preston tries not to let the funny look he wants to make slip.  
“This is great, General…” It isn’t.

Hancock- The Atom Cat kids are easy to please, he soon finds out. A stiff drink and someone to yak at was all it really took. Good folks, if a tad dim, Hancock sees no reason to dislike this partnership. It’s about damn time the Minutemen got some folks that can defend themselves. He wonders if any of them would consider being stationed around Goodneighbor. He feels the paint jobs would fit the aesthetic nicely.

Danse- Danse approves pretty enthusiastically. For not being Brotherhood trained, the Atom Cats know their way around power armor. He talks shop with them, considering for awhile that if he can’t be in the Brotherhood, the Minutemen might be the next best thing if these guys are part of it now. This is what he tells people, but on another level he just likes the image they present, and wishes he could be inducted into the group.  
Leather jackets look supremely cool and he owns a library of Hot Rod magazines.

Nick- The butchery of poetry they present on the weekends in the middle of the Castle courtyard (as well as broadcast over the Minutemen radio) makes him wish he has brains to blow out.

Curie- She’s glad that the Minutemen have some protection now, but she has to wonder how much help they’ll really be. Duke comes up to her often in need of medical attention, and though minor (scratches and scrapes and sometimes wounds she can’t even see) his face is always burning underneath his helmet. She wonders if those flames they wear heat up their armor in some way? It’s the only explanation she has as to why Duke is always flushed when she sees him.

Cait- She approves, if only so the members of the Minutemen get cool jackets. She also makes a note to herself to officially join the Minutemen if this dress code becomes enforced.

MacCready- He’s crying. He’s laughing so hard he can’t catch his breath. He collapses in the middle of the Castle and almost throws up. He has to be escorted far away from a group of very confused greasers, shouting that they should have the Tunnel Snakes join too and go fight the Jets. Vigorous finger snapping ensues.

Codsworth- They paint flames all over his chassis while he’s in sleep mode. He’s ashamed to admit he loves them. They make him feel fast. “O-oh, no, don’t bother yourself! I’m sure it’ll come off in the rain,” he’s quick to say when Sole offers to clean him up, and spends a long time looking at himself in the mirror, making soft “zoom, zoom, well hello ladies” noises. 

Deacon- They spend a week following his every order after he convinces them he’s secretly the General, and Sole is just a pretty mouthpiece. He sends them on top secret missions to the closest Super Duper Mart to collect ‘supplies’. He’s close to driving Zeke insane trying to get a piece of preserved pie (that is, after all, how one becomes an official member of the Minutemen) when Sole finally steps in and clears things up. They give him dirty looks when they can recognize him from then on out.

Dogmeat- He doesn’t like cats and the Minutemen are too close to mailmen for his comfort. He’s extremely wary of the merger.

Strong- Strong joins Dogmeat in the suspicion corner. Puny humans and their damn power armor…

X6-88- The alliance is a strange one, but ultimately useless. All they really accomplish by joining forces is making it easier to eliminate them all when the Institute inevitably purges this waste. Still, he finds he rather likes being called “one cool cat” whenever one of them passes. He’s one of few applauding after a poem recital.


	4. Fallout New Vegas+DLC companions react to a kiss from the Courier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fallout NV companions react to a kiss from the courier? (Can you add dlc companions like from dead money? )
> 
> (Hold onto your genitalia, I did ya one better anon and included EEEEEEVERYONE. HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY FROM THE MOJAVE)

Boone- The subtle peck on the cheek was the last thing he expects when they sit by Yangtze Memorial, watching the sun peak over the mountains. Unexpected, though secretly he’s been hoping for this moment for a few weeks now. He peers at Six over his sunglasses and the only thing he can think to do at first is blink dumbly at them. They flash him a grin more dazzling than the sunrise. He pushes forward and kisses them back fiercely, hoping the way his teeth clicks off theirs doesn’t hurt them. It’s been a long time since he did this after all. He’s too clumsy, too impatient, but Six doesn’t seem to mind. They’ve been waiting for this a lot longer than him.

Arcade- He rubs the spot on his forehead where Six’s lips had pressed softly against his skin. He doesn’t want to make a big deal about it. Their intentions were purely innocent, they simply showed their gratitude in intimate ways. It was a thank you for stitching up the bullet wound in their side. It’s perfectly platonic. Yep. Platonic. Perfectly platonic pining from a pretty- damn it, he was officially attracted to them, wasn’t he? He holds his palm against his head, over the spot where he still feels a lingering warmth. Though that may be the blush he feels creeping up to his ears. He only wishes he’d said something better than “Uh. Alright.”

Veronica- They present her with a dress, an honest to goodness dress with pink floral print and not a single bullet hole or scorched patch of cloth. She rips it from their grasp with a gasp so deep it almost pops her lungs. She thanks them ten times and hugs their waist tightly, almost picking them off the ground. Their mouth is against hers just as she’s setting them down. Her eyes go wide. They pull away quickly, apologetic, they turn away abashed. “Sorry. Enjoy the uh, the dress…” She’s too stunned to stop them from leaving the hotel room.   
She finds them again after she’s shed her ugly burlap sack and shows off with a twirl. When Six compliments her, she breaks in the middle of her spin, sweeps forward before they can object, and kisses them hard. Maybe a little too hard. Six doesn’t complain.

Raul- There’s no reason a person like Six would have any interest in an old man like him. He doesn’t think much of the way they treat him, how often they turn to him for advice, how they’ll sit and listen to his stories for as long as he’s willing to tell them. How they squeeze his arm and tell him he still has a use in the world. They kiss him just on the corner of his lips (not quite his cheek, not quite his mouth), and though the gesture fills him with a long lost sense of purpose, the resolve he has needed for years, he also feels a trickle of dread. The longevity of the people he cares for is never long. Six slings their pack over their shoulder and continues down the dangerous road they’ve walked together for months now, but while they seem at peace with him walking behind them, Raul is more cautious than ever. Six will not be another coffin on his conscience.

Cass- They share drinks after a close call with raiders leaves them both with too much adrenaline and not much else to do. Six can handle their liquor almost as well as her. Things quickly devolve into a war of attrition on both their livers to decide who passes out first. Eventually Six slurs something about how pretty they think Cass is and she snorts, almost choking on her drink. “Jesus, you’re one of those drunks.” She turns towards them just in time for their lips to brush against her ear, missing their target (she’s not entirely sure what the target was in the first place), and the movement is too much for their equilibrium to handle. Six’s head goes down onto the bar with a solid thwack. Cass pats them roughly on the temple and leaves them there to dry up in Prospector’s Saloon. She doesn’t bring up the failed attempt at a kiss; In the morning, she doesn’t remember it.

Lily- “Love you, Grandma.” Six has to stand on tiptoes just to reach Lily’s cheek and nearly misses, but Lily is there to catch them before they teeter off the balls of their toes. She picks them up and smothers them with kisses. For once, she sees Six, not the faces of the grandchildren she loved so dearly, and it is Six’s bright, bell laughter she hears. Leo’s voice rolls to the forefront of her mind and urges her to let her teeth slip into their carotid artery. Lily refrains.

ED-E- Arcade’s rejection often hurt the little eyebot’s feelings, but Six is always there to remind him he’s loved. They pull him down and kiss his grill after Arcade’s distant attitude towards him leaves the bot feeling low. He rolls giddily in the air with a series of gleaming beeps.

Rex- Six has been away for what seems like ages. When they appear again in Freeside, he bolts towards them, practically piledrives them into the dirt. They’re just as glad to see him, and kiss the side of his face, his neck, the top of his head. He licks their face in return, leaving them both slobbery messes in the middle of the road.

God/Dog- His belly aches, he tries not to make a sound. Hurt is good. Hurt keeps the other voice in its cage. But Six doesn’t like Dog to hurt, the hurt sounds worry Six and he doesn’t like the way they look when they worry. He just can’t help it, the hunger, the metal in his stomach burns, he lets out a soft whine. Six’s head turns to him in an instant. “Is it bothering you, Dog?” He nods. Six’s arm is too small to fit around his shoulders, but they try anyway, and lay their lips against one of his scars. “We’ll find you something to eat, big guy.” The pain ebbs just a little bit, and God is silent.

God/Dog- Six kisses his jawline, he fixes them with a scrutinous glare. “Thanks for looking out,” they say. It’s circumstance that keeps them together, and as long as his interests align with the courier’s survival, he’s promised to protect them. That fact was likely going to change later down the road, when they were no longer a key part of helping Dog and himself. And yet… something in the way they treat him, the blind trust. It’s naive. The familiarity should sicken him. Instead, it makes him quicker on the draw, and in moments of calm (Dog is quieter around them, he’s not entirely sure why) it makes him observe the set of their face. When they kiss him, he stares for a long moment before his eyes cut away.   
“You’re welcome.”

Christine- Only a moment ago, she was ready to do whatever it took to make sure Elijah didn’t make it out of the casino. Even if it meant that Six didn’t make it out either. Looking at them now, the way their brow furrows, their hand reaches out for her. She remembers the way it formed to hers and squeezed and wants so badly to take hold of it again. “Begin again, but know when to let go,” she whispers under her breath, and a contrite laugh leaves her. “Sounds like you.” She slips her hand into theirs, and her breath catches in her throat when she finds them suddenly pressed up against her. “I’ll find you after this,” they promise, so heart achingly earnest, and the kiss takes her breath away. She blinks away tears, she wishes this could last, but it won’t. She hopes there’s an ‘after this’ and leaves Six to deal with Elijah.

Dean- He can’t really remember the last time he’s felt that little spark of static electricity. He feels the tiny jolt as Six kisses his cheekbone, and almost reaches up to touch it in mild surprise. There’s a moment, the shortest beat, that he sees Vera’s eyes staring back at him from the courier’s face. “What was that for?” They tip their head towards him and reply, “Always thought you looked handsome in those posters. And now I can say I’ve gotten to first base with a celebrity.” Dean smiles despite himself and settles back against the wall they sat beside. Six leans a little into his shoulder.  
“…Would you mind if I sing? It would probably be a lot more impressive to your friends if they knew you got a private show from Dean Domino himself.”   
It does nothing to help clear out the horde of Ghost People on the streets below them, if anything it attracts more of the bastards to them, but Six lets him perform. It’s been even longer since he’s done that.

ED-E (Lonesome Road)- ED-E hovers above them as Six sits, head buried in their knees among the wreckage of the Divide. “EVERYONE IS GONE” glows in white spray paint on the wall above them. ED-E lists down towards them, whirring mournfully as he edges his way under one of their arms to squeeze himself into their arms. He wants to tell them they’re not alone, they haven’t been since they brought him online. They wipe at their cheeks with one hand and hold him with the other. “Heh… thank you, ED-E.” They kiss him near his antenna. “You’re my hero.” He’s never felt more like Ralphie.

Ulysses- He stares out at the dizzying emptiness of the Mojave, eyes unfocused, a thousand yards away wherever he looks. The campfire glows dully and casts shadows on their face when his eyes finally rivet on them. “It wasn’t beautiful before,” he assures them, “Not as ugly. But not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination.” This will be their last night in each others company. Soon they would return to New Vegas, to face the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. He never doubted their resourcefulness, yet didn’t diminish the threat they faced. It would be strange losing them. The one purpose he had. Six probably felt the magnitude of the battle they faced even more. Their fingers squeeze his.  
“I’ll miss you.” He turns to look at them straight on instead of out of his peripheral. They stare back at him, for awhile, neither do anything. Six reaches for his breathing mask, and he feels the tiniest hitch in his heart. He doesn’t stop them, even when they move it down just enough to plant a kiss against his lips. They return the mask to its place a moment later and they both return to silence.   
In time he breaks it.   
“I’ll miss you too.

Follows-Chalk- The lights of New Vegas were brighter and closer than any star in the sky, close enough he felt he could touch them. The colors of the Strip twinkled with more color than anything he’d seen in the canyon. Six is patient with him, answers every question he has, tells him he’s never a burden when he comes into their room in the middle of the night to ask why the lights never slept. They take him to a casino, where the tinkling sound of caps is like a swarm of noisy cicada. Something good happens at the table where they roll a ball around a black and red wheel, causing the surrounding people to cheer loudly. He’s lost in the excitement until Six grabs either side of his face and kisses him roughly. “You’re a god damn lucky rabbit’s foot!” He has no idea what that means. The next day he brings Six a dismembered rabbit’s foot and hopes beyond hope this pleases them enough to do it again. They wince upon seeing the bloody paw, but once he reveals his purpose for this, they kiss him anyway.

Walking Cloud- After applying a tourniquet to a nasty wound, Six leans forward and offers her a kiss on the jaw. She assumes it’s a common practice among those outside of the valley. In return she pets them on the head, oblivious to the soft look they give her when her back is turned.

Joshua- Six approaches him, their steps uneasy, uneven. Tonight is their last night in the Sorrows camp, and though the parting is tinged with sadness, the tribals revel, drink, and wish the courier safe travels. His farewell had been curt. Apparently this was not enough for them. Their focus darts from the stripped gun in his hands to his eyes, and there’s something in them he can’t quite pin. He shows some surprise they aren’t letting the Sorrows shower them with well deserved celebration. They push their fingers under his, breaking his contact with the metal of the pistol. “I wanted to give a proper goodbye.” He only feels the vaguest ghost of heat against the dead nerves in his fingertips as Six brings his hand to their face. They kiss the only bare slip of skin they can find under the bandages. Joshua can’t find the will to stop them, much as he despises the temptation they pose. He finds his fingers smoothing out against them, his thumb following the contours of their face. He almost believes his own words when he says this goodbye won’t last forever.


	5. Courier and Raul react to Fallout 4 companions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> If you're still doing these maybe the courier with Raul reacting to meeting the FO4 companions after realizing they've wandered a bit to far from Vegas ?
> 
> (It’s mostly Raul reacts loool )

Hancock- Six pushes Raul and Hancock together to talk before introducing him to anyone else. “Is it racist to assume ghouls want to hang with other ghouls?” the younger ghoul asks,“There really isn’t a word for it. Necrosist? Ghoulist?” Raul scratches at the back of his neck and admits he doesn’t know. It’s not like they really have much to talk about. They’re literally centuries apart in age.   
“I like your mustache,” Hancock awkwardly compliments. Raul backs out of the conversation while he’s busying himself with a hit of Jet and both of them are thankful not to have to talk to each other anymore.

Preston- The kid is polite, “yes sir, no sir, thank you sir”, but between him and Hancock, both Six and Raul wonder if it’s just a thing in the Commonwealth to dress like a founding father. Raul considers hanging up the vaquero outfit for awhile. Six tells him he’d look damn good in a red coat with a tri-corner hat and he’s inclined to agree.

Codsworth- Mr. Handy bots are rare to come by in the Mojave, even rarer to find ones that weren’t whirring a buzzsaw at you. Codsworth is arguably the most hospitable person either Mojave residents have ever met. He makes them cups of tea (out of what, neither are sure) and Six finds themselves missing Lily’s baking, the burnt cookies would make an excellent pairing to this unsweetened tea. Raul just takes the opportunity to order the Mr Handy unit around. It’s rare he gets to kick his feet up and be the boss and he enjoys every minute of it.

Piper- She asks Six a dozen questions about the alleged army of Securitrons they have under their command, the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, the truth behind their relationship with the mysterious Mr. House, what really happened to the man that shot them, the nature of the cybernetic implants they’ve received, and if the rumors that they unlocked the secret of Sunset Sasparilla star bottle caps were factual. Six instead talks about the time they beat up a bunch of old ladies that tried to kill them with rolling pins. Raul corroborates.

Curie- The shine in her eyes makes Raul think of Rafaela, the shape of her face pulling Claudia into his thoughts as well. The second it looks like Six might make a move on her, Raul tears them away by their shirt collar, chastising them in Spanish. He has a short aside with Sole after most have turned in for the night. He makes sure to flex his skills with a pistol, just in case Sole’s intent towards “hermanita” drifts into ugly waters.

MacCready- He can’t stop asking about Six being shot in the head. “What’d it feel like? Did you black out right away or like… feel around the hole? What about the guy who did it?” are just some of the rapid fire questions. They show off the scars, describe in sickening detail the sound of their own skull splitting open in their ears and the taste of dirt in their mouth. What should have deterred the young man only made him want to hear more. Six is more than open about the experience, but some of the details make even Raul squirm.

Nick- Raul is fascinated by Nick’s inner workings, Nick isn’t too fond of a stranger poking around inside him. It takes some convincing (and a little pleading) before he allows the old ghoul to crack him open to look at a fried circuit that’s been bothering the detective for a month. It’s too close to his spinal column for comfort. Six peeks over Raul’s shoulder the entire time and comments on everything, including the port that looks like a little brass heart in his back (“That is the cutest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen holy shit.” “Boss, give us a little space, will ya? …It is pretty cute though, Nicky. Just saying.”). Once that’s done, the two find some common ground, both being on the older, creaky, beaten up side, and chat over tequila and cigarettes. Raul wonders why the synth smokes in the first place.

Danse- The trash can mutters something Raul guesses is derogatory when he catches sight of the ghoul in Sanctuary. “Like we need more freaks” is his best interpretation. Raul is so used to this response, he isn’t really affected. He pretends not to hear a thing. Six, meanwhile, blisters at the underhanded comment. They bark increasingly harsh insults at the taken aback soldier until they’ve got the power armor clad giant in a corner, unleashing every insult Raul has taught them with a near poetic fluency. Theoretically, Raul could step in, prove himself the bigger man and let the paladin off easy. Then again, he’s never claimed to be a better man than anyone. It’s a bit too fun to watch Six snap anyway.

Deacon- An hour after arriving in Sanctuary, Deacon pops up in Raul’s vaquero costume with a pair of pop guns, hollering bastardized Spanish in an accent reminiscent of a Pre-War cartoon mouse. No one is sure how he got either, and he doesn’t have them for long. He’s temporarily banned from interacting with the courier’s party. (“Deacon, we talked about this.” “Yeeeah… sorry, boss.” )

X6-88- Once they learn he’s a synth, Six asks if he has a FISTO setting. Raul is mortified he has to remember carrying Six out of the run down building because their legs didn’t work and prays to god the courser doesn’t have a FISTO setting.

Cait- All she wants to hear about is Red Lucy and the Thorn, if Lucy really is as amazing as she sounds. Six makes a promise to introduce the two and tells her yes, Lucy is exactly as amazing as she sounds. Raul is reminded once more of an uncomfortable morning after. Red Lucy was a biter, and he caught a glimpse of her handiwork on Six’s backside when they were changing into their gear.

Strong- Neither are strangers to Super Mutants. Strong is about the only person Raul is immediately comfortable with, even if the big mutie tells him he’s weak for not fighting with his fists. Six challenges him to an ill-advised wrestling match. Curie is nice enough to patch them up afterwards.

Dogmeat- It’s nice to see a dog without mange, radiation sickness, or a glass dome on their skull with a brain floating inside it. Raul tells him all about the dog he had as a child, letting him lick the cup of tea he surmises is made from Hubflowers. Soon after, Six finds Dogmeat asleep against Raul’s side, and Raul snoring like a Yao Guai, both of them belly up. They throw a blanket over the two before retiring to the guest house.


	6. Fallout 4 companions react to the Lone Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fallout 4 Companions react to the Lone wanderer

Danse- They’d served with dignity in the Brotherhood of Steel, even if it was under the command of a man Maxson often condemned. They were a sibling all the same. He salutes them like he was still a Paladin, and is a little surprised they salute back. “Been a long time since someone did that,” they say. Danse knows the feeling. They trade war stories and it feels like Danse is back at the police station. Everything in 101’s cadence and mannerisms is reminiscent of a hundred soldiers Danse had spoken to before, so it makes things easier than it would be with a civilian. It’s like talking to Rhys, to Haylen, to any Paladin or Scribe that called themselves brothers and sisters. They both have stories about DC as well, and Danse feels immeasurable comfort knowing that many of the memories he has of the place aren’t manufactured. 101 is so far the only person that can validate at least some of his past.  
So they talk, of the people in Rivet City, of the battle they’ve fought, of the ones they’ve lost. When they’re both tired of talking, they sit and keep watch over Sanctuary in a companionable quiet. It feels like old times they’ve never shared.

Hancock- No one makes it this far without pissing off a lot of people. Oh, he’s heard the stories, knows the true ones and the lies and all the dirt to be dug up on them. He also knows 101 has a bounty on their head from several different factions that bled out of DC and into the Commonwealth. They were a nice enough person, but he never liked standing too close to anyone with a target on their back. He liked it even less when his friends stood there. Mercs, the ones after 101 especially, were messy folk. They were scattershot when it came down to it, and didn’t give a damn who got caught between them and their payday. He captures them in a moment when the others aren’t looking, makes sure his grip on their wrist is tighter than it needs to be. “These are my people,” he says under his breath, “If you get them hurt, you won’t have to worry about the Talon Company or Regulators mercs on your heel.” He lets his fingers linger a few seconds too long before finally releasing them. A slow nod tells him the message is received. His lips quirk. “Good. Welcome to the family.”  
He left the “I’ll be watching you” part unsaid, but judging by the way 101 threw him glances over their shoulder, that part was heavily implied.

Piper- The next article is practically writing itself! The elusive Lone Wanderer, the Kid from 101 in the flesh. She vigorously shakes their hand and introduces herself before anyone else has a chance. “Piper Wright, reporter. Tell me 101 -is it okay if I call you 101- what brings you to the Commonwealth?” 101 says they don’t really have a reason, which does little to stop her. She monopolizes their guest’s attention for the next hour, jotting down most of what they said word for word. By the time Sole leads them away, her notepad is almost filled with enough information to pack an entire memoir on their journey from DC to the Commonwealth alone. She flips through what she has and wonders if all of it would fit better in a book than a newspaper. She considers titles while 101 is handed off to the others they didn’t get a chance to meet before being swooped up.

Cait- She didn’t really understand why anyone acted like this Vaultie was such a big deal. So they cleaned up the water in DC, who drank that shit anyway? Mirelurks fucked in it. No way you could clean Mirelurk spunk out. Still, she playfully punched them in the collarbone, making them stumble a step from surprise and the sheer force of the blow. She props her hand on her knee. “So yer the Vault celebrity, eh?” She snorts derisively. “Don’t look like much to me.” She gestures to their muscles. “Bet ya couldn’ even tear tissue paper with them noodle arms.”   
Three arm wrestling matches later, she is still unconvinced they’re the big hero people talk about.

Preston- He grew up on stories about the Kid from 101 that had slipped out of DC. Preston was around 10 when it all happened, and it was a story he held close to his heart for many years. It wasn’t often a teenager was responsible for saving an entire city of people. They were one of many reasons he had for wanting to make the Commonwealth slightly less of a shithole. He babbles and 101 looks entertained that he’s holding their hand the entire time. He only realizes this fact when they give him a gentle squeeze. He tears his hand away with stuttering apologies, fumbling with his laser musket so he has something else to hold onto. He has so much he wants to ask but he knows he’s spoken too much as it is. He has to leave on a good note. The only thing that comes out once he clears his throat is; “Welcome to the Commonkelth.” Deacon elbows him and calls him a starfucker. It takes him a few hours to gather up the nerve to speak to them again. 

Nick- All the information he’s found on 101 consists mostly of hearsay and tall tales of dubious accuracy. There were few concrete achievements he could corroborate and knew with certainty were true; That 101 had saved a lot of folks in their time, they were still a kid when they did it, and that it cost them a hell of a lot to do it. He takes their hand with his intact one and shakes it firmly. “You did good, I hope you know that. World could use a few more upstanding people like you.” This surprises them, like they weren’t used to hearing praise. Maybe they just hadn’t heard it in a long time. Either way, they thank him. He allows the more eager members of the party their time, watching their every move closely, both out of suspicion and curiosity. Later, after everyone has their turn playing with the newest toy, they approach him, to Nick’s amazement. They sit next to him.  
“You kind of remind me of my dad in a weird way,” they say suddenly. Nick tells them he gets that a lot. He wants to ask about the Mysterious Stranger a few times, but figures they know even less than he does.

MacCready- He knows the jumpsuit when he sees it cresting a far off hill. Few people are stupid enough to go around in bright blue and eyesore yellow, plus the only other person he knows that wears those ugly Vault suits is standing nearby. He’s embarrassingly excited about the visit. Once he’s close, he calls out to them. “Hey, mungo!” Recognition clicks in an instant and they capture him in a tight embrace. They express astonishment that he’s still alive, and even gets a little misty eyed. “Way to make me feel old, kiddo.” MacCready really doesn’t understand why they look so overjoyed to see him of all people (he was a little shit to them for a few years there) but he hugs them tightly. They have a lot to catch up on. Some of it good (like Duncan), some of it bad (like Lucy), 101 has their fair share of good and bad to share as well. He reflects with a short chuckle when Sole pulls 101 away for a moment that all of his truest friends have the worst taste in clothing.

Curie- She’s eager to meet the Lone Wanderer once MacCready has given her a briefing about everything that happened in DC. Her only real curiosity is how they survived lethal doses of radiation with limited mutation, or how they can do the many things they’re supposedly capable of (MacCready mentions something about a metal skeleton that peaks her interest). 101 isn’t sure themselves. They agree to allow her to run as many tests as she can with the limited resources of Sanctuary, and at the end of the day, she’s still no closer to answering the walking riddle that is the Lone Wanderer. She does get to hear about medical practices in the other places they’ve visited, and she leaves them with a renewed desire to see all that’s left of the world in the wastes.

Deacon- “I heard about you all the time on radio back in the Capitol Wastes, was always disappointed I never got a visit from the friendly neighborhood Lone Wanderer.” They arch a brow skeptically at him. Sole is behind them with a similar, much more leery look. He can’t decide if it’s a “stop bugging the guest” look or an examination of any possible tells, in case he was telling the truth for once. He continues the congratulation train and slips away before any holes can be poked in his story.

Strong- Strong doesn’t see why this human is different than any of the others. Just because they survived radiation, Super Mutants survived radiation all the time, it wasn’t some special skill. He tests to see if they’re built any sturdier than normal humans (they must have been, radiation makes humans stronger, he thinks) by slapping them on the back. They don’t get up for a few minutes. They do get up after awhile, so maybe they were more mutant than human after all. He’s hit people a lot softer than that and they never got up.

X6-88- The only reports he has any knowledge about regarding the Lone Wanderer are their rare dealings with the Railroad. The case in which 101 kept a valuable synth replicant out of the Institute’s grasp is the only real information he’s heard on them, the only source he trusts, even if the incident was before his time. He regards them attentively during their talks with the others in the group. Sole has insisted X6 keep whatever information he learns during this visit to himself. They both know that’s an order he won’t follow. 101 reaches him near the end of the procession Sole has, for some reason, dedicated to their arrival. They search for something he knows isn’t there behind his glasses. He screws his mouth shut tightly. Few words are exchanged, at some point 101 offers a handshake, X6 doesn’t unfold his arms.   
What little they say to each other is relayed to Father. He’s less than pleased to know the one responsible for the Institute losing one of their most advanced prototype coursers is in the Commonwealth. X6 is ordered to observe, for now.

Dogmeat- He sniffs at 101’s leg. Something about them is odd and familiar, their scent, something in their face. They kneel to rub his head and he jumps up to lap at their chin. “You look just like him,” they murmur, their fingers deep in his fur.

Codsworth- “Did you hear about the machines in the coin factory breaking down all of a sudden?” Codsworth is confused, which doesn’t stop 101 from continuing, “With no explanation! It just doesn’t make any cents.” It takes a few seconds to snap. He stops himself from gasping excitedly and bustles over to them.  
“A man walks into a bar!”  
“His friend ducks,” they finish. Sole groans audibly, head in their hands. This does nothing to stop the barrage of truly awful puns the Mr. Handy and Lone Wanderer exchange for the next fifteen minutes.  
(Thank you justbadpuns ;D )

BONUS

Maxson- If he must pick the thing that hurts him the most, it’s their eyes. They look at him like they’re staring at the corpse of the little boy they knew running around the Citadel. In a way, they are. He doesn’t let himself falter even under their stare. He keeps his back straight, his head high, his arms behind his back, his mouth sets in a thin line. “Jesus, Arthur.” The name strikes him harder than he anticipates. His fingers ball into a fist. “You asked for an audience, Paladin. Speak.” Their lips part to speak, he sees the anger (though it’s close to betrayal, and it is not a look he is unaccustomed to) flash across their face. Everything drains on their quiet exhalation.   
“I don’t have anything to say to you, Elder Maxson.” The way they say his title makes it feel like a loathsome one to hold. He wants to apologize for something he knows needs no apology. The choices that have brought him here haven’t been easy, but they were necessary, he tells himself. He doesn’t need to explain himself to one of Elder Lyons’ pets. So he says nothing. 101’s features twist in anguish, until they can no longer stand to look at him. They rip something out of their pocket and slam it on the table, and then they’re gone, the silhouette that once filled him with such admiration disappearing through the halls of the Prydwen. His eyes flicker to the holotags left on his desk.


	7. Fallout New Vegas+Ulysses react to the Courier finding a ukulele

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Maybe Fallout NV companions + Ulysses reacting to the courier finding and, trying to, play a ukulele or guitar and just being super curious about playing music. ( also I love your reactions ! Keep up the great work)
> 
> (I actually really needed to hear something nice today, so thank you :,) )

Raul- His skills on a guitar are rusty, like the rest of him, but he’s more than willing to lend Six what knowledge remains. He’s a tolerant teacher, even when Six plays horrifically out of tune. When they’re good enough to play at least one song, they sit around the campfire and sing a duet of “Quiereme Mucho” with him. His voice grows thick halfway through. He remembers where he learned the song. He remembers the way his father would wrap his arms around his mother’s waist and sing it in her ear, and the sweetness in her voice when she sang the refrain. He lets Six finish on their own before he says, “Let’s teach you another song, ey boss?”

Arcade- Six is just so excited to find a “no shit, actual ukulele” lying around that he doesn’t have the heart to tell them they sound like a six year old and that the thing is missing a middle string that hasn’t been manufactured in over two centuries, making it sound horrible and rendering it worthless. He really wishes he had the heart to tell them because they really do suck at music. They try to play “I Got Spurs” and Arcade has to wonder what god he’s angered to deserve this.

Lily- Six sits in her lap with their little guitar and strums in random patterns that fit no real tune. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore,” Lily decides to holler in the too-loud voice she can never seem to lower. Six throws their head back to sing with her. The sounds of a Nightkin with no volume control and the human shouting to match their range, the two backed by the distant pings of a ukulele, soon fill the Lucky 38 loud enough to wake the dead. The dead are likely befuddled by the whole thing.

Boone- The guitar takes up too much space to be anything but a burden, not to mention paints a giant target on their backs. Given that Six has no idea how to play it properly, the thing has less than no purpose. His attempts to coax them into getting rid of it fall flat. He feels a little guilty just smashing it. He relents to the next best idea, and takes a trip down to the Strip to talk to Lonesome Drifter, the only person he’s ever really seen that knows how to play. He sketches a quick guide on notes and lends him an music book of western songs to take back to Six. Boone sits up with them well into the night deciphering bars, and by the time morning comes, Six can almost, very nearly play a recognizable version of “Ghost Riders in the Sky”.

Veronica- She fights Six for a turn on the ukulele (the only time she’s even seen one is the miniature version hula girl bobble figures sometimes have). Neither of them can sing or play. Everyone suffers for their amusement.

Cass- “You’re giving me a headache with that shit! Put it away before I feed it to you!” Six shoots her a pout, but puts the guitar down regardless. Cass is nursing a monster of a hangover, the last thing she needs is them plucking random strings. She stares at it for a few minutes after they’ve walked off in a huff. Pulling it into her lap, she rests her chin against its body and turns the pegs until it doesn’t sound tone deaf, running her thumb slowly down each string. Her hands are still callused from the days when she used to play, her thumb glides smoothly over the edge of the E string. Well shit. Now she’s gonna have to lug the thing around with her and teach that dumbass courier how to carry a tune properly.

ED-E- He bobs along with whatever Six is playing, and sings along with his high pitched chirps. The sight of a person practically skipping down the highway with an eyebot dancing behind them, belting out a song on what looked like a very small guitar, makes many of the passersby question their own sanity as well as Six’s. ED-E is just glad to be along for the ride.

Rex- Performing with the King is second nature to him by now, so much so that he’s ready to sing the moment he sees Six pick up the beaten up instrument. They bumble through “Hound Dog” with a more talented voice than hands, and let Rex howl out a few bars, until someone throws a shoe at them from the window of the Lucky 38.   
“Take the stick outta your ass, Boone! It’s Christmas!”  
“IT’S MARCH!” 

Ulysses- Six is excited to show him their find, absently tweaking at strings and tuning it by ear. He inclines his head a little towards them. The progression is simple and choppy at first, but it evolves into something he recognizes. Six is humming quietly. “For if the bomb that drops on you,” he interjects. Six peers up at him from their place hunched over the guitar, a smile spreading across their face. “Gets your friends and neighbors too,” they sing aloud. “There’ll be nobody left behind to grieve.” They still can’t really play, this doesn’t stop both of them from singing “We Will All Go Together” to the quiet Mojave sands, their voices the only sound for miles of barren wastes.


	8. Fallout 3 companions+Gob react to the Lone Wanderer getting hit on by handsy suitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> fallout 3 companions reacting to someone flirting with the LW and getting a bit too handsy? (can you add Gob? he's not really a companion, I wasn't sure if it was okay to ask )
> 
> (Totally ok anon! )

Gob- It’s not uncommon to see someone getting close to 101, just as it isn’t uncommon to watch Nova lead someone upstairs and not come back down for an hour or so. Gob wrings a cloth around the rim of a glass and keeps his mouth shut at first. It isn’t any of his business after all. They’re polite at first, 101 rebuts them. They keep pressing, and Gob catches sight of their hand sliding up over 101’s hip and down their thigh, even as the Vaultie is trying to push them off, their tone growing more aggressive the longer the advance goes on. “H-Hey,” Gob stammers. They don’t even look up. “Hey!” he snaps a lot louder, louder than he’s probably ever yelled at a customer. It’s enough to make the entire bar fall into a hush. 101 shoves the greasy bastard off of them, Gob glaring daggers until they finally slink off. “Thanks,” 101 sighs. Gob mutters “Pricks do the same thing to Nova all the time” and pushes another beer their way. On the house.

Butch- He bristles the moment the drunk in Rivet City sloshes themselves into the seat next to them. Not only do they smell like they were just fished out of the lake, but he’s right in the middle of making his own move god damn it! He nurses his bottle of beer and pretends like he isn’t pissy, which fails because the infamous Butch DeLoria pout™ can be spotted a mile away, while they make friendly with the walking brewery. Only, the drunk gets a little too friendly. Out of corner of his eye, Butch sees the way they’re digging their fingers into Lone’s Tunnel Snakes jacket. He sneers, “The hell do you think you’re doing?” “Mind your own business, kid.” Like hell he was gonna do that. Not when his friend turns to him with a plea in their eyes. He wraps one arm around Lone’s head and grabs his bottle with the other, ensuring (with a forethought he usually isn’t capable of) that they don’t end up with glass in their eyes when he smashes his bottle over the creep’s head. He keeps his arm around their shoulders even after their unwanted friend hits the floor like a sack of flour, and there it stays until they both stumble out of the bar a few hours later.

Charon- The second he catches the “admirer” reach for 101, he seizes them by the wrist and bends their hand back until something creaks. They scramble out of their seat, tugging, but Charon just applies more pressure the more they squirm. “My employer is not. Interested.” His vice doesn’t soften, despite how loudly they beg for him to let them go. “You’re gonna break my fucking arm!” “No,” Charon corrects, “I’m going to fracture your meta-carpals and tear the tendon in your wrist. If you keep demanding their attention, then I’ll break your arm.” He only releases them at 101’s order and they run off with their hand clutched against their chest. He’s about to return to his spot standing against the wall behind 101 when they stop him and offer the now vacant seat. He takes it, because if nothing else, he won’t have to stand around watching idiots insult his employer with their ill intended flattery any longer.

Paladin Cross- Watching the child she once held in her arms flirt with a Brotherhood initiate is much more awkward than she would have imagined. She’s about to officially excuse herself (she hasn’t been a part of this conversation for awhile now) when Lone’s acerbic tone makes her stop. The initiate is groping into the hem of their pants when she looks back, even while Lone is beginning to push them away. Cross snatches them up by a fistful of their shirt and hauls them to their feet. “Initiate, that is not conduct befitting the Brotherhood of Steel.” She doesn’t growl or threaten, no, she lets her strength speak for her. She challenges the younger one with the steel glower in her eyes to try anything. They hastily agree how out of line they were and promise to never do something so idiotic again, before scattering like a cockroach. “Are you alright?” Lone nods slightly, looking smaller than usual. “You be sure to tell me if anyone comes near you like that again. Anyone.”

Clover- Her baby is so gorgeous, is it any wonder they get looks wherever they go? She’s usually giddy how much attention they get together, but then they start getting more… personal. She knows better than to express jealousy, yet somehow she thought they were the one woman type. They’ve always treated her so nice. She’s so sick of sharing her lovers. Crimson and Eulogy, now her gorgeous Vaultie and some pushy teenager. Pushy in a too literal sense. When they get too close, looking like they’re trying to force 101 into a nearby room, she grabs them by the shoulder. 101 doesn’t even have time to tell them “no” before Clover is sinking a switchblade into their jugular, tearing it out, burying it again. They collapse after five or six times, foaming bloody bubbles out of their mangled throat. “You ok, honey?” She clings to their frame, not caring that she smears blood all over both their clothes. She’s been through this kind of shit enough, she’s never going to let someone make her lover feel that way, she promises and kisses their cheek.

Sarge- He edges his way between 101 and their admirer. “Fraternization within the ranks will not be tolerated, soldier!” he barks. His buzzsaw whirls to life, inches from their nose. “What the hell, ya’ hunk a junk! I don’t know you!” The blade jabs forward a few centimeters quick enough they leap back. “So you’re a red sympathizer! Is that how it is, maggot?” He hovers after them a few steps when they pivot and take off in the other direction, shouting, “Run back to your commie friends, coward! You’re a disgrace to the service!”

Jericho- Not like it was an uncommon thing in the wastes. Jericho rarely got involved whenever some horny fuck started feeling up someone up in a bar- he wasn’t about to go looking for trouble over a guy trying to have a little fun. Hell, he’d be a hypocrite if he said he hadn’t had his way with the odd girl from a razed town. But 101 isn’t some nameless pretty face. He can’t pretend not to see the uncomfortable edge to their shoulders as they’re backed further and further into a corner, and if he did, he’d have to deal with the aftermath if things went too far. Too much of a hassle. The spindly little shitheel doesn’t even see the bullet until it plows through his skull and pops out of one of his eyes. By then it’s really too late to see anything, isn’t it? He hands 101 a napkin to wipe the blood off their face and shrugs off any tepid thanks.

Fawkes- He knows wrongful conduct when he sees it. Perhaps one of the only upsides of the strength and size he has now, dividing 101 and the scoundrel accosting them is as easy as swatting a fly. He slips one large hand between them both and pulls 101 behind him. “That is quite enough,” he says in a firm tone which hid some, but not all, of the anger he felt at such behavior, “I think I speak for my friend and I both when I say you are not wanted here.” There’s one more upside to being an eight foot tall freak; people certainly listen when you speak. He turns to 101 after they’ve gone, and walks a little closer on the trek back to the Megaton shack.

Dogmeat- He doesn’t like the looks of them the moment they step up to his master, but he’s a good boy and sits while they talk. At the first sign of a struggle, he doesn’t await a command, he snatches the inseam of their pants and bites down as hard as his powerful jaws allow. He gets double the usual amount of snack cakes at dinner later on.


	9. Fallout 4 companions react to the Sole Survivor being tortured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Companions reactions to Sole Survivor being tortured in front of them?

Hancock- He’s as helpless to protect Sole as he was to protect his friends from Vic, and it’s tearing at his already worn seams. He stares at the men on the other side of the cage’s bars from under his brow. “The moment I get out of this thing, I’m going to spill your fucking guts.” It isn’t really a threat the way he says it. It’s a promise. The raiders laugh that the Mayor is going feral on them. Oh how right they are. He’s going feral, and if he has to tear into them with his fucking teeth, he’ll make them pay for this. Sole’s pained whimpers from across the room make him wince, breaking his eye contact with the men guarding him to rivet on the body splayed across a bloody table. The floor underneath them is stained, deep red soaking into the concrete, so old and dried he knows exactly what pools belong to Sole by their wet gleam. Hancock lets loose a hoarse bark of mirthless laughter. “Do you have any idea how screwed you all are? That shmuck you’ve got over there… I’ve seen them fight dogs tougher than you. If you weren’t a bunch of cowards that get your rocks off hurting folks, you’d have fought Sole fairly, and you’d be eating your own teeth. Isn’t that right?” There’s no response but a stuttering breath from the paling form far out of his reach. “When I get out of this thing, I swear… they’re gonna pay.” All they have to do is hold on…

MacCready- His first response is anger, his cardinal rule against swearing being broken within two seconds of hearing Sole cry out. He calls them every name in the book between his futile attempts to undo the knots at his wrists. “Don’t give them the god damn satisfaction of seeing you break!” Sole takes these words to heart, or so he thinks, because the screams grow muffled, like they’re trying their hardest not to let them out. They don’t stop entirely. It takes a lot of kicking, squirming, and cursing on his part to at least push up the blindfold obstructing his vision. The sight he’s greeted with is like getting punched in the gut. Sole’s bare back is turned to him, all he sees is the cross hatch of torn flesh and the way the dim light overhead shimmers off the red painting their skin when they breathe in. He jolts upright, only to go toppling over with the chair he’s bound to and ends up with one arm pinned under the seat. “You sick fuck!” All the threat leaves his voice, the sob reverberating off the walls back to him so he can hear just how weak he sounds. He is weak. The only thing he can do is watch the blade in the Gunner’s hand split them open bit by bit. Soon the feeble threats turn to pleas, then to apologies too quiet to be heard over Sole’s screams.

Curie- She yelps at the first blow, her heart leaping into her chest. “Please, do not do that! You are hurting them!” They don’t pay her any mind, striking Sole again across the jaw. She jumps at the reverberating crack that follows. “Why are you doing this? We have done nothing to you!” She begs, she bargains, yet nothing she has assuages whatever anger they feel towards Sole. Her entire body jolts at every impact. She’s terrified, and the way her lungs spasm just scares her more, she can’t draw in a breath. This is panic. She knows the signs of a panic attack in humans, but she doesn’t realize until now how awful it is. She’s shaking, her limbs tingle, she can’t think. “Stop, you cannot do this! Please! Stop! Stop, no more!”

Nick- “You’re gonna be fine, kid. We’ll get out of this if we keep our heads.” If only he could believe his own words. They’re empty and easy to say before a shock baton collides with Sole’s sternum. Their entire body goes taut in a seizure, he knew they’d be screaming if the flow of electricity wasn’t constricting the muscles in their lungs and throat. Any plans he tries to devise to make good on his promises shatter at every outcry that punctures the cramped space. He ducks his head, the sight too much to stand. What’s worse, he asks himself; That he can’t do a damn thing to stop this, or that these guys are smart enough to to not waste their energy on the synth? Everything they’ve got, they expend on Sole. The one he’d give anything to keep safe. It’s only a matter of time before he can no longer take it. His grip on whatever secrets he has to keep from their assailants begins to slip as the night drags on.

Piper- She doesn’t want to cry. These are just the type of people that would enjoy seeing her scream and wail and so she tries to swallow it down. It gets hard, but she doesn’t look away either. Her eyes lock on Sole’s. The only person she begs to is them. “Look at me, Blue. I’m right here, I’m right here, it’s gonna be ok.” She feels her throat grow tight as another lash cuts Sole open across the ribs. Good old Blue takes it on the chin. “When we get rid of these assholes and make it back to Diamond City, I’m gonna crack open a bottle of Nuka Quantum, just for the occasion.” Yet another ribbon cuts along their back, beads with blood welling up through the cracks in their skin. She winces and it becomes impossible to hide the anguish in her voice any longer, nor can she stop the tears rolling down her cheeks. “S-sound good, Blue?” They heave a sound between a laugh and a sob that shatters Piper’s core, and she’ll give them anything if they please, just please, stop.

Danse- He berates himself, runs through his head the countless opportunities he had in the battle to stop this from happening in the first place. The Brotherhood told him when he was only an initiate, a soldier sooner dies than gives in to any coercion method. He’d been prepared for that. He’s always ready to scuttle his armor if he thinks he’s going to fall in battle. What they never prepared him for, (and really, how could they? ) was the candy red shade of Sole’s blood, or how scolding hot the sorrow in his stomach would get. His breathing is tight, and he can’t stop the few stray tears bubbling up and spilling out. “Don’t give them an inch, soldier,” he says, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. For their sake, at least. Sole’s body arches the further the serrated knife snickers off their ribcage, but Danse refuses to look away. He wants Sole to know he’s with them in this moment. More so, he knows he deserves to see the consequences of his inaction. This is his fault for not protecting them. He knows he shouldn’t be spared a second of it. The moment these bastards let their guard down, he’ll obliterate them down to the last man. Until then, he fixes a stone stare at every wound they inflict. He’ll make sure they suffer tenfold.

Preston- He fights his binds the entire time, until his wrists are worn and split from the rope wearing into him. “You can’t do this! If you gotta hurt someone, hurt me!” It isn’t fair. It isn’t right! All Sole has ever tried to do is make the Commonwealth a little better, all the people they’ve saved, this isn’t how the Commonwealth should repay them. What was he really expecting… The Gunners proved to him once before that there is no depth people won’t stoop to, whether it be killing innocent civilians or flaying open perhaps the one person in the wastes that only wants to help. He feels sick to look too long. He squeezes his eyes shut, tears streaming down his face and streaking through the dirt on his cheeks. He still battles the rope keeping him out of their reach, but a voice tells him it’s useless. All of it. People like Sole, the Minutemen, their numbers were few stacked up against the ugliness of the Commonwealth. This is the first time since Quincy that he wants to hang up his hat and let the order die. It did once. It won’t be long before another tide swallows them up, and neither he nor Sole will be there to revive them.

Cait- She kicks until she feels weak, she screams curses until her throat is raw, and it solves nothing. She knows their type, they think they’re tough and they’re too weak to really prove it. The Commonwealth is filled with these kinds of assholes. But these particular assholes, they made a hell of a wrong move. Cait is more than angry, she’s berserk, and when she gets free (and she will) she’ll rip their fucking throats out for all they’ve done. She won’t need Psycho either, all the fuel she needs is the pain in Sole’s voice, and she’s going to tear this building down brick by brick, until every one of them has died painfully. She doesn’t rest until her bondage snaps.

Deacon- “Ooh,” he coughs through a mouthful of that signature bad penny taste, “Careful boys, I’m super ticklish.” This isn’t the first time he’s bled to keep the Railroad underground, and it won’t be the last. He spits out blood and a few kernels of teeth on the ground. The lead baddy (Deacon has decided to call him “Frederick”) regards him with contempt. He meets it with a smile. “Fine. You won’t tell us what we want to know… I’m sure your friend will be more forthright.” The smile fades. Already they’ve begun to get him down from the chains holding him a few inches off the ground and he hears them drag something heavy towards him. “Hey, don’t you want to secret recipe to Mama Murphy’s apple pie? Just keep digging a little longer, you’ll find it!” He’s only made aware how damn woozy he is when his feet touch the ground and he’s forced to kneel on the grimy floor. Sole’s wrists are bound above their head, leaving them to dangle like a slab of meat. “C'mon now,” Deacon laughs in what is quickly becoming one of the most distressingly unfunny moments of his life, “They don’t know anything. They’re just a… just a mail runner from Goodneighbor. You don’t know anything about the Railroad, do ya’?” They play along and smirk ambitiously. “Railroad? Never heard of it.” Frederick rolls his fingers, suited with a powerglove that glows from heat coils powering up beneath the iron plating. He’s not in a very playful mood. The flesh of Sole’s stomach sizzles as the red hot fist is brought against it. The further it presses through the first layer of skin, then the second, then the layer of muscles, the harder it is for Sole to keep their mouth shut. The same goes for Deacon. “Stop it! They’re not a part of this!” He tries to shake off the people holding him back, tries to stumble through some story to get them off their backs, but the smell of burning flesh makes it hard to think. More than halfway through the branding, he can take it no longer. He cracks. The truth Frederick and his fuckbuddies want comes out, and he remembers why he hates it so much. Once it’s out there, there’s no pulling it back in.

Codsworth- Now more than he ever he wishes he was back home. Mum would be feeding little Shaun, sir would be reading the newspaper, and he would be washing dishes in the kitchen. Nothing could harm them. But there are no dishes in the kitchen, no Shaun in his crib, Sole’s better half is lying in a grave. And Sole… the only thing he’s got left, they’re calling out to him for help, but he isn’t a Mr Gutsy. He’s not really meant for combat. He’s just a rusty housemaid. He fears he’s going to lose them all over again, that he’ll be left alone for another century. “Codsworth!” a shrill yell breaks him from paralysis. “Sir/mum! I… I-I’m coming!” He attacks the barrier between them with renewed vigor and a determination he’s never felt before.

X6-88- The surface has nothing but barbarians, depraved creatures that exist only to destroy. As if he can’t hate it any more. Sole is at the mercy of people with none, and he’s so heavily damaged, there’s nothing he can do to stop. An explosive has torn through his legs and rendered them useless. He can only watch the welts turn to bruises and the blood trickle down their face. He understands anger. He wants to make them stop, make them suffer for making Sole suffer, but his fear (fear, he’s actually afraid?) for Sole’s safety is torn between fear of what these emotions mean. He’s defective. Not just because he’s been damaged in the fight, or because he’s incapable of doing his job and protecting them, but because he feels a weight in his gut when he sees a glob of blood and spit drip from Sole’s mouth. He wants to save them from all this, and not because it’s in his programming. He doesn’t understand why runaway synths would want the freedom to feel things like this. It hurts.

Strong- Human makes sounds he’s heard before, like when his brothers tear off limbs or skewer other humans on poles, and he’s angry more than anything. He thought human was strong, like him! They should be fighting, not screaming. They should make them hurt for hurting them, but they don’t. It doesn’t occur to him it’s because they can’t. “Shut up!” he bellows, “Fight! Human is being weak! Fight, human!”

Dogmeat- He doesn’t stop howling and scratching at the door that separates him from his master. He only pauses every few minutes to bound to the window, where men are teasing him through the glass. His jaws snap viciously at them, yet all they do is laugh. He returns to the door, biting, clawing at anything he can, until his paws are worn and bloody.


	10. Fallout 4 companions aftermath of torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> holy shit, that sole being tortured one ruined me. good job! could we possibly get a follow up with the aftermath of the torture? I'm all for angst but please don't make it too angsty, I don't think my heart could take it.
> 
> (Lol it was torture to write badum tss. But thanks. Hopefully this isn’t too angsty? I can’t tell anymore, it gets away from me sometimes)

Hancock- He plies them with all the liquor and chems they need to make the pain ebb, but he’s mindful of just how much they take. Wouldn’t help anyone if they got out of that den and overdosed a few days later. Goodneighbor is closest, so he lets them sleep in his room until they can get up and around on their own. “Wasn’t your fault,” he tells them quietly a few days later as they laid curled up under his sheets (in a position he’s had dreams of a couple of nights, under happier circumstances). “Ain’t nothing you could have done to keep it from happening. You know that, right?” They hesitate, leaving it to hang a long moment without an answer. He squeezes their arm tenderly. “I want you to remember that.” He leans forward, presses a firm kiss to their forehead and stands. He checks with Fahrenheit to make damn sure not a single rat escaped that nest of sadistic fucks. He hopes Sole sleeps a little easier with them gone.

Nick- He stays close enough to catch them when they stumble. “Take it easy.” They fight him, say they need to get to Sanctuary as soon as possible, that they have work to do, but Nick coaxes them into sitting and taking a breath. “Don’t push yourself. After everything…” He sighs, a hand resting against the back of their neck, cradling their head. “No one expects you to be a superhero all the time. If you need time, you take it. The world won’t fall apart without you for a little while.” They stare at him with slowly crumbling defiance, until they can no longer hold it together under the weight of his gaze. They sink forward against his chest, and he strokes their head in loose circles until the tears come.

MacCready- He hates himself. As much as he wants to be there for Sole, he can’t look at them. He makes sure they’re taken care of, well fed and healing properly, but beyond that, he stays at arm’s length. He can’t see anything but his failings in the bruises and barely healed cuts on their cheeks. He’s just reminded of everyone he’s let down in his life, Sole being the newest addition to that list. He speaks in clipped sentences and sits far on the other side of the campfire from them, hugging his rifle in his lap. Sole tries to coerce a conversation out of him, but like the nights before, he keeps his answers short. “Robert.” He twitches slightly. He knows what they’ll say even before they say it; “What’s going on with you?” MacCready huffs, “Of course you’d ask me that. You get butchered and you ask me what’s wrong.” They blanch at his response, but it’s started now and he can’t stop. “I should have… I don’t know what I should have done. I should have kept them off you.” He wipes stubbornly at the fat blobs of salt water welling in the corners of his eyes. “God, and I’m so damn selfish, I haven’t even thought about how you much worse you must feel…” Why did Sole put up with him? Why did Lucy, or 101, or anyone ever put up with him? They wrap around him from behind and his eyes grow wide. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, clinging to their arms, “I’m so sorry, Sole…”

X6-88- He doesn’t even ask; Once they’re both free and clear, he relays them both to the Institute. He doesn’t trust any waster with their care. Sole is taken to the medical wing and X6 is taken for repairs of his own. His injuries heal a lot easier than theirs. “Sir/ma'am,” he begins as they both sit on a bench in the lobby, near the shade of artificial trees, “Are you feeling well?” They are still covered in gauze, but X6 is assured the recovery process has been expedited considerably. “I’ll live. You?” “I saw it again. When I was sleeping.” His fingers curl against his lap. “I believe there is an anomaly in my programming. I have been considering turning myself in for assessment before it gets any worse. It could be a threat to the safety of you and the Institute if I am unable to perform my duties at an optimal level. Not only that… but in allowing you to come to harm, I failed my highest priority mission. You would be better off in the care of someone else.” They lay their hand over his. “If I ordered you not to get reprogrammed, would you have to do what I do say?” His brows knit at the question. “If I believe I am becoming a danger, then it would be irresponsible of you to give me such an order. But… if it was given…. I would be obligated to follow it.” “Then it’s given.” He stares at them from behind his sunglasses, observing the purple bruises flaring down their temple, and the way they frown at him. In this instance, he could easily circumvent their wishes. It would be the wiser decision in the long run. But he turns forward, staring at the reflections in the glass floor. He doesn’t want to forget them as much as they don’t want him to forget. “Very well,” he complies. For better or worse, he would hold onto the experience he’d like nothing more than to forget.

Danse- It’s difficult to move on from something like this, but Sole keeps moving. He admires them even more than before, and not just as a soldier. He insists on carrying most of the junk they (for some reason) always want to lug around and keeps them both on the routes which pose the less danger. If they find a fight, he takes point. If they look weak, he insists on a Stimpak. If the sun goes down, he stops them and sets up camp. They express with some annoyance that they liked it much better being the leader than the follower. “It’s only temporary. Just until you’re back in fighting shape.” He gives them a portion of his rations, and takes the first watch while they sleep, as he has for the last five nights. His caution near borders on paranoia, but there’s no way in hell he’s letting it happen again. He’d sooner die than see them in that position again.

Curie- She whispers curses and has to flick away the dewdrops on her lashes as she’s tending to Sole’s wounds. “I do not understand humanity at times. People should not hurt others like this. For any reason!” She’s confused, a little afraid, and every time she looks at the crosshatch of stitches, she finds her eyes watering again. She feels compelled to lay a kiss just above one of the cuts on their back and sigh against their skin. “I am so sorry this happened to you.” She’s gentle in her care for their injuries, but firm when she tells them they absolutely must stay on bedrest for awhile, and even if she needs to hold them down to keep them put.

Piper- She delivers on that promise of an ice cold Nuka Cola once they’re back in Diamond City. She makes sure the doc patches them up and curls up with them on the couch once they’ve got the greenlight to head home. Nat knows something very bad happened, so she keeps her distance and stays quiet, excusing herself to go upstairs and finish her homework. Piper pets Sole’s head as they lay in her lap. The glowing bottle of soda is left on the table, untouched. “We can talk whenever you’re ready. Talk helps.” At least, it usually did. She leans her head back, lightly runs her nails up and down their scalp until they both fall asleep. Nat makes them breakfast in the morning. It almost feels normal.

Deacon- “I think you look at least ten percent hotter. Scars are total sex magnets.” He runs his thumb around the burn wound, skirting the edges just enough that he doesn’t cause them pain. “You know what… it looks a little like a bunny.” Sole laughs, then immediately asks that he not make them laugh as they replace the bandages around their waist. What other choice does he have? If he doesn’t hear it, he’ll have nothing to focus on but the pain of his own wounds and their limping gait, both things he’d really like to forget for awhile. “You’re a real badass now. Nobody can call themselves a secret agent until they’ve been roughed up a little by bald guys with the ‘sinister big bad’ starter pack.” He slings an arm around their shoulders on the trip back to HQ. Both because he needs to remind himself that they’re here, they’re still alive, and so they can lean their weight against him to alleviate the hobble in their step. He prods them over the course of the next few weeks whenever they need to apply a Stimpak, a dose of Med-X, or a change of bandages.

Codsworth- He insists Sole lay down the moment they reach Sanctuary, and doesn’t let them get up for anything. Even trips to the bathroom are a battle, with Codsworth not wanting them to move an inch and Sole not wanting to piss in a bottle. He brings them breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed, and on the sparing few occasions they absolutely need to get up, he’s there to be their crutch. “I was terribly worried about you,” he tells them as he’s folding and putting away clothes in a rickety handmade dresser. “I thought you… I thought I was going to…” Sole calls him over from his task to run their hand along his chassis. “I’m not going anywhere, Codsworth.”   
“Please don’t. It was terribly lonely without you all that time… I would be quite… lost without you, sir/mum.”

Cait- She breaks three of her knuckles and fractures her orbital socket in the frenzied attack, but she insists it’s nothing compared to what Sole went through. After receiving treatment from a nearby settlement, Sole wakes up to Cait with an armful of liquor. She dumps them onto the bed and shoves a glass into their arms. “No better pain killer in the wasteland!” She fetches one for for herself and clinks it off Sole’s. “We’re gonna drink until we’re smashed, and then we’re gonna drink some more.” She opens up a bottle of bourbon and splashed a shot into both their glasses, and downs hers while Sole is staring at her. “Yeah, sounds like a great coping mechanism,” they chuckle dryly. “S'the only one that works worth a damn,” she rebuts, tipping the bottom of their cup up towards their lips.

Preston- He takes over many of the General’s responsibilities, and unless it’s of the utmost importance, he doesn’t bother them with it. He checks in every morning with the Castle’s doc to get a report on Sole’s condition, even after they’re well enough to get around by themselves, and ensures they have all the supplies to make Stimpaks and other meds. He wants to talk to them about it, make sure their mental condition isn’t as damaged as their physical, but his throat becomes unbearably dry whenever he tries. He finds them one day, standing on the Castle walls, as the sun was setting across the ocean and painting the waters with blazing color. He stands with them awhile, glancing between the visible scars and the majesty of the sunset. “I won’t let my guard down again, General. I promise.” His fingers wind around theirs and squeeze ever so slightly.

Dogmeat- He lays across Sole’s lap, and growls at anyone that comes close. Even settlers and friends in Sanctuary are warned to keep their distance. It serves Sole’s reclusive nature just fine after what they went through, and they’re glad to have company in solitude.

Strong- Human moves slow, tells him they “just need a minute”. He gets sick of it quickly, so he picks them up and places them on his shoulders, carrying them most of the way through the city until they reach the city with lights. “Other humans weak,” he tells them when they’re being treated, “If they were strong, woulda eaten you, like brothers do. But you alive.” He pats them on the back and pops at least a dozen stitches.


	11. Fallout 3 companions+Burke find a How To Draw Manga book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fallout 3 companions + Burke reacting to seeing a REALLY BAD Learn to draw Manga book.
> 
> (I just want you to know I almost laughed to the point of tears when I read this ask. You guys have such beautiful minds)

Butch- “Psh, manga is for dorks,” says the man with a collection of Atom Boy Adventures books under his bed from the same artist.

Charon- 101 holds it up to him, he stares blankly at it for several minutes. They ask him what he thinks of it when their arms are starting to get tired. He finally breaks his gaze and looks up at them, stating plainly; “Destroy this abomination.”

Paladin Cross- She doesn’t get it, but gives Lone a funny, forced smile. “If you like it, then that is all that matters.”

Clover- “Oooh, I like the purple haired one.” She lays herself across 101’s back as they’re reading it. “Those are some of the prettiest looking mutants I’ve ever seen.” When they tell her they’re not supposed to be mutants, she looks alarmed. “Then what the hell is wrong with them?”

Sarge- “Damn red propaganda!” He spits a burst of flamethrower at the pages and burns it to cinders. “No wonder we bombed those commie bastards!” 101 is too afraid to tell him the book is Japanese and not Chinese.

Jericho- He flips it upside down, sideways, just trying to make sense of the damn thing. “What the hell is this shit? Who has square eyes? Jesus, they’re going different directions. Why do all the guys look like dames? The fuck is going on with this book?”

Fawkes- “This is an insult to both art and literature.”

Dogmeat- He eats it. Its a mild improvement.

Burke- He grabs it the first chance he gets and studies it religiously, until he’s “good” enough to make an original character, Aika Amaterasu Katsumi Misaki Tanaka. His waifu for short. Please do not steal.


	12. Fallout 3 companions+MacCready react to pet Deathclaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> FO3 companions and young MacCready reacting to the Lone Wanderer befriending a deathclaw during their travels and treating it like a pet. ( I really loved your courier ukulele reaction!)
> 
> (Thank you and also thank you for making me realize I misspelled ukulele EVERY FRIGGING TIME I MENTIONED IT IN THAT POST FML had to go fix that)

Charon- He stays ten feet back at all times. It’s the stupidest thing he’s ever seen and he’s not ready to be disemboweled quite yet. Although the way things are going, he’s waiting for 101 to trip up and get themselves killed. Maybe Reginald would make a better employer.

Butch- He almost shits himself a little every time the thing so much as sneezes, and watching it tear apart a molerat at dinner every night makes him nauseous. He’s just waiting for the moment it gets a little peckish and bites his head off. He voices his displeasure every chance he gets, and if it weren’t for the fact he’s fresh out of the Vault and really needs the backup, he’d leave Lone’s dumb ass behind. Them and their stupid “Floofie”.

Clover- She is perhaps a little too accepting of the new pet. She gives Patchy belly scratches and kisses them between the horns, rubs her cheek against their head and falls asleep against their side. Patchy loves their new mama and she loves them back.

Sarge- “With this fine soldier on our side, the communist scourge doesn’t stand a chance! To battle Smoochums!” Sergeant RL-3 approves of their new traveling companion.

Paladin Cross- She tells them a thousand times how insane it is to keep a Deathclaw as a pet, how dangerous, but Lone doesn’t listen. They pat the hulking beast on the nose like a dog and point to her with the other hand, giving the order to “kiss”. Cross instinctually goes for her rifle, but a long, slimy tongue drags up the middle of her face. She freezes in shock (and disgust) as Pepper returns to their master. She doesn’t bring up her issue with it again, and it takes awhile for the minor chemical burns to heal.

Fawkes- Being a mutant himself, it’s hard for him to really disparage their acceptance of the creature, but the line has to be drawn somewhere. Fawkes draws it at the Deathclaw named Sir Clicky Claw.

Jericho- Compared to the Vault kid he saw stumbling around Megaton when they first met, he’s a little proud to see them taking action and literally taming the wastes. Proud and scared shitless. Snuffles keeps looking at him sideways.

Dogmeat- Snookums lets Dogmeat chew on his horn when they lay down for the night, and the two chase each other gleefully around the wastes. In a fight, the Deathclaw is quick to get between him and any enemy, and Dogmeat is sure to share any kill he scores. 101 affectionately refers to them as brothers.

MacCready- The children of Little Lamplight, him included, take turns riding on Porkchop’s back. The giant monster is the only mungo any of them trust, and 101 leaves them to watch over the caves on a few occasions. MacCready asserts that as mayor, he should be the only one allowed to ride it while 101 is away.


	13. Fallout 3 companions+Gob react to ghoul Lone Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fallout 3 Companions(+gob if that's okay I mean ) react to the lone wanderer becoming a Non-feral ghoul

Gob- He doesn’t see them until after most of their smooth skin has become mottled. There’s still a recognizable face under the raw patches, enough left that he knows them instantly when they walk into the bar, head ducked. His heart goes out to them, really. It’s been so long, yet he still remembers every moment of his change. It doesn’t tickle, that’s for sure. They sit at the bar and he hands them their usual before they even ask. “I’d like to tell you it gets better. Don’t feel much like lying to you though.” Their head sinks lower, but he reaches forward and urges it back up by the chin. “Now don’t you go disappearing like that. You keep your head up, and don’t let any of those gawkers weigh you down. You’re worth a lot more than a clean complexion.” They smile with gratitude and he smiles tentatively back.

Butch- The slow change begins with what he assumes is a peeling sunburn. The first time he got baked under the DC sun, he panicked and thought he was turning, until Lone convinced him otherwise. It isn’t a big deal until they scratch at a patch of dry, flaking skin, and take a huge chunk of flesh away. He avoids them like the plague once they know what it is, using his shirt as a breathing mask whenever they turn to speak with him. To his credit, he doesn’t leave. He remains by their side through the unpleasant parts of the change (the vomiting up blood part usually leaves them both heaving on the roadside) and assures him they’re still a Tunnel Snake as far as he’s concerned. Just… shedding. They set ground rules. Lone is not allowed to pick off any skin when he’s watching. They are under no circumstances allowed to share or even touch his food. Also, if there are any hotties in a bar they occupy, Lone has to scram. “Your pepperoni face is a major turn off, I don’t want you throwing the game for me. Try to be a little considerate, will ya’?”

Clover- Good looks or not, 101 is hers, and she doesn’t relinquish her claim on them just because they look like they’ve been shot in the face. Honestly, she’s been with people a lot uglier on the inside and out. She shows them what she thinks of the new look by kissing them at every turn, snuggling up to them in the same sleeproll at night. She hugs their waist and breathes against their ear. Pets their hair even when clumps come out in her fingers. Sometimes things fall off at unfortunate times, so what? She’s handy with a needle.

Sarge- He doesn’t notice for awhile. Even then, it’s not like he really cares. His programming barely recognizes faces in the first place. “We’re in war times, private. The enemy doesn’t care if we wear our best dress and look pretty for them! The only thing they should see when they look at you is the hardened soldier that heralds their inevitable death, not some beauty pageant winner! Now quite your whining, pick up that weapon, and let’s go find us a couple screaming meemies to take your mind off it!”

Fawkes- Most of his own experience with mutation seems a far off fever dream, and he can’t really compare it to what Lone is feeling. He makes sure they stay hydrated when the sickness leaves them hurling their guts out every few hours, keeps a damp cloth for the fever, does everything he can to make sure they’re at least comfortable through the worst of it. And when they’re suffering from something more than just the illness, he pulls them up in his lap to read from a a mostly intact John Keats novel they found in a museum which sits, made very small in his hand. “I will give you the definition of a proud man: he is a man who has neither vanity nor wisdom. One filled with hatreds cannot be vain, neither can he be wise.” He finds his head leaning against theirs as he reads, spontaneously nuzzling against them with a tenderness he only vaguely remembers showing another person, in another life. Their transformation into a meta-human does little to affect how he sees them. If anything, it makes him respect them a little more for pressing on, even when the wastes seek to tear them down.

Charon- He awkwardly pats them on the back when they’re emptying their stomach for the third time that day. It isn’t his place to point out how god awful they look, which they do. He hands them a bottle of water (purified, irradiated, it hardly matters now) to them to swish around and get the taste out of their mouth. By now they’re at the tail end of it, and the worst is behind them. “It will be easier getting through the Metro now. We’ll conserve on ammo.” That is understandably the least of their concerns. He wants to give them some other form of encouragement, but there’s not much he can say. The biggest show of support he can give them is to stick by them, and he doesn’t really have a choice in that matter. And give anyone that looks at them funny the stoniest death glare in the Capitol Wastes.

Jericho- Their moping around just pisses him off eventually. He doesn’t try to spare their feelings, and cringes whenever they turn that ugly mug to him. “You look like absolute shit. I mean really, just awful.” He passes them a smoke, but they can light it themselves. “But hey, you’re pretty much immortal now. Even if you get hurt, all ya gotta do is roll around in a puddle until you’re healed up. Seems like good looks are an easy trade off.” He takes a breath through his cigarette and lets it plume in the air above him. “Not that you were a prize winner before or nothin’.”

Paladin Cross- The first Brotherhood soldier that takes a shot at Lone from afar, she shows an unprecedented form of ire and slaps them full force across the face. She strikes them again at their defense, that Lone should just wear power armor and a helmet if they don’t want to be mistaken for a zombie. “After everything they have done for the Brotherhood, they have more than earned your respect. Nothing’s changed. And if I catch you-” She stops to gesture broadly to the band of recruits and other soldiers gathered. “-Any of you, using sentient ghouls for target practice again, you will pay dearly for it.” They’re still the child she knew, and she refuses to treat them any differently after the radiation whittles them down.

Dogmeat- What does he care? Ghoul, human, he would follow his master to the ends of the earth and back again.


	14. Fallout New Vegas companions react to Courier sleeping with Benny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fallout New Vegas companions finding out that the Courier spent a night with Benny and didn't even use the opportunity to get the chip

Arcade- His argument consists of a lot of wild hand gesturing, broken only by terse noises of contempt because he’s too angry and appalled to speak.

Boone- Although angry, when Six comes out of the casino completely disheveled and in the clothes they were wearing the night before, he’s too embarrassed by the thought of them in bed with him to tell them how stupid that was.

Veronica- “I can’t believe you! We came all this way-…Wait. He told you to shake your what?”

Raul- He shakes his head, it takes every ounce of restrain he has not to laugh in their face. “Wow, boss. You’re a tactical genius. He never saw that brilliant maneuver coming… Or maybe he did.” He wiggles what little eyebrows he still has he’s so pleased with his own cleverness.

Cass- She tips her hat. “Hell, I thought he looked damn fine myself. Now I know how terrible a night in bed with him would'a been. Thanks for taking one for the team. We’ll get the chip one way or another, can hardly blame ya’ for trying to get it the fun way.”

Lily- “I’m disappointed in you! Please tell me you were at least safe?” She waggles her finger at Six like a disapproving parent, which in all honesty, she is. “And that arrogant smooth talker, he deflowers my grandchild and takes off.” She takes Six by the hand to storm down the Strip. “We are going to find that man and he is going to propose to you like a gentleman!”

Rex- He comes the closest a dog can to facepalming and shoots them judgemental looks.

ED-E- He plays the sad trombone “wuah wuah wuah wuaaah” sound clip he’s been saving for just such an occasion.


	15. Fallout New Vegas companions+Benny, Vulpes realizing they love the Courier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Hi! Can you please do a reaction with Fallout new Vegas all companies + Benny and Vulpes realizing they have fallen/are in love with the courier? Thank you!
> 
> (Didn’t include Rex, ED-E, or Lily because this falls squarely in the romance category for me and I feel like all of them didn’t even need to realize they (platonically of course) loved the courier, they just did)

Benny- Well, he gave them a night to remember before he blew their brains out a second time. That must have been worth a little good karma from the universe, right? He loads a round into Maria and stands above their side of the bed, the barrel poised for the back of their head, and his finger slides along the trigger. A barely audible moan stops his dead as they turn towards him, and no longer is he looking at a faceless obstacle between him and New Vegas, but the breathtaking shamble that chased him all this way, this person that fate has tethered to him. He lowers his gun a few inches to observe their peaceful expression and the way a few strands of hair swept across their forehead. And he knows there’s no way he can do this to them again. Not when their terrified expression from that night in Goodsprings’ cemetery still haunts him some nights. He scoffs at himself. “Way to go, Benny. Gone and got yourself twisted around some mailman’s finger.” He stuffs Maria back in her holster and presses two fingers to his lips, then to Six’s head, following the curve of their skull to chase the stray tufts of hair away from their face, and lingers a moment on the scars he left the first time. When this is over, he imagines they’ll look real pretty, all aglow by the lights of New Vegas. He leaves a note for when they wake up, and hopes they’ll at least consider a night out on the town when all this is over.

Vulpes- His orders were to keep an eye on them. This courier was to be shaped into an image which complimented Caesar. Seemingly brought back from the dead seeking vengeance, it was just the kind of tale that would sway hearts to the Son of Mars and instill loyalty in their men as much as it would strike fear in their enemies. They’re a tool. One that he finds he covets the more he slinks after them in the shadows. He can’t be sure what about them is so appealing, it would take some introspective time to come up with an answer and he’s far too busy to sit and ponder why he wants them so badly, but he wants them, and that much is apparent. It isn’t truly love. He doesn’t feel quite capable of that, and the concept of love is superfluous as far as he’s concerned. He just knows he sees something in them he wishes to claim. But he isn’t completely above stooping to romantic cliches. He leaves them a mutated viscaria flower on their pillow one morning.

Arcade- Six smiles behind the neck of their beer bottle at something he says, and Arcade becomes aware that he’s smiling too. He immediately stops himself and slaps a hand over his mouth like he just let something far too personal slip. Oh no. No, he is not going down this road, not with Six of all people. Not with their wild impulsiveness and blatant disregard for their own lives and their pretty eyes and inviting lips- “Welp, that’s enough for tonight I think! See you in the morning, ok, sleep well, alright, bye.” He leaves no room for them in the conversation and speed walks back to his bunk to promptly kick off his boots and climb under the sheets in his clothes. He’s just had too much to drink. The feeling will go away in the morning. If he squeezes his eyes tight and just goes to sleep, the love boogeyman can’t get him. He can sleep off a crush.  
The battle for Hoover Dam is coming towards them at an alarming rate. The last person he wants to develop feelings for is Six. He pulls the sheets up over his head, but in the morning, his chagrin and Six’s beautiful smile have yet to dissipate.

Boone- It’s a sensation he knows all too well, the way his chest swells a little when he catches their form on the horizon coming towards Novac. The spans of time between their partings are growing short, but they feel unbearably long, and he thinks of nothing but them when they’re away. Like when his duty to the NCR tore him away from Carla for too long. It hits him. Watching them walk up the path towards the giant dinosaur statue, waving because they know he’s watching even when they can’t see him, it feels like he can breathe again. That he’s not just waiting for the next moment until he can be by their side and feel alive again. He’s in love. He misses them too much to refuse their invitation to travel, but he’s quiet on the road. Quieter than usual. Six doesn’t see much of a change, or doesn’t comment on it. Boone however catches himself staring at them whenever he gets a chance, stealing glances behind his glasses and his heart skips a beat when they get close. “I love you,” he says softly as they’re walking, and the midmorning sun is haloing in their hair and the words simply burst from his mouth. “What was that?” They turned to look at him and he jolts a little, tipping his hat lower to shadow his face. “Nothing. Nevermind.” He can’t tell them. That would just incentivize whatever god held a grudge against him to take away one more good thing in his life, and he doesn’t have many good things left.

Veronica- She flops into their lap as the two sit beside the campfire, giggling more than she should at some joke they’ve told her. She feels safe here, and under the starlight sky, all she can stare at is their face in the warm light of the fire. Eventually she stops laughing, but a small smile remains as she observes them. She snuggles against their stomach and heaves a content sigh. “God, I love you.” There’s no other way to say it. She hasn’t been this happy since she was a teenager, without the underlying fear the Brotherhood will find out. If anything, it makes her hold them even closer, knowing how much it hurts to be torn from that one person that makes the stars look dim with their shining brilliance.

Cass- What was, at first, a way to let off steam, quickly becomes annoyingly personal. They start cuddling afterwards. And to Cass’ surprise, she doesn’t push them away when she feels arms slide around her in the night. She actually shifts a little to allow them enough room to nestle under her chin. “Fucking Christ,” she hisses, softly so as not to wake them, as she manages to shift just enough to grab a whiskey bottle from her belongings. Too bad she’s not a god damn acrobat, because it’s a real pain in the ass to take a glug of alcohol without almost slipping and letting the bottle hit Six in the head. In the position she’s pinned in, a good amount gets down her throat, while the rest backs up and almost shoots out of her nose. “Yeah, yeah that burns, that burns pretty bad.” She throws her head back against the pillows. Six’s fat ass has barely stirred. Anybody else she would have thrown off at this point, but she likes the way they look when they sleep. She tries not to gag at how cheesy that sounds in her head. “I hate you, you’re a fucking nuisance is what you are.” Their breath glides across her bare skin, sending a shiver down her spine that betrays her real feelings for the person curled up against her. She smirks and kisses the top of their head.

Raul- They are the only person in a long time that truly knows him, and not just because he gave them his life story in huge chunks. It was simply easier to talk about around Six. He tries to convince himself he’s too old for all that love nonsense, that it was a game designed for the young to win. But there’s no denying the way their presence effects him. Makes him feel like he can run and jump- ok, maybe not all the strenuous activity stuff, he cares for them a lot but they’re not a time machine and love won’t fix his ruined joints. But when he realizes what he’s feeling is exactly what he thinks it is (after a few weeks of just thinking the sporadic way his heart would beat a little faster around them was something medically wrong with him) he tries several times to reach out to them. To do what, he isn’t sure, maybe to hold their hand or touch their hair, some form of contact. But he can’t do that to them. Six deserves a lot better than him. In the end, he doesn’t really do anything when the realization dawns on him. The most he can do is make sure if and when they find someone to love (and he’s fairly sure it won’t be him) that it’s someone worthy; someone that can be everything he is not.


	16. Fallout 4 companions react to terrible pickup lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> COCKJELLY-MOVED  
> Fo4 companions reacting to Sole using a bunch of lame pickup lines on them? (Esp X6, preston, and maccready pls!!)

Preston- “Why did I pick up this mug? Cause you are some hot chocolate and I want a taste.” (☞-∀-)☞   
“G-General, there are a thousand better things we could be doing right now,” he says like he isn’t blushing scarlet. “No, no put the mug down.”

MacCready- “You have something on your butt. My eyes.” (☞-∀-)☞   
“It’s been three hours, I am going to shoot you in the foot, I swear to God!”

X6-88- “Hey baby, your legs are the word, now let’s go upstairs and spread the word.” (☞-∀-)☞   
“Sir/ma'am, I feel our time would be better spent-”  
“Between the sheets.” (☞-∀-)☞   
“I was going to say it would be better spent-”  
“Knockin’ boots.” (☞-∀-)☞   
“We could be fighting-”  
“The beast with two backs.” (☞-∀-)☞ (☞-∀-)☞ (☞-∀-)☞   
“Please stop.”

Danse- “Are you Buzz Lightyear? Because that ass is outta this world.” (☞-∀-)☞   
“I’m genuinely concerned you may have suffered head trauma in that last fight.”

Curie- “Is your name Flecainide? Cause I think you just made my heart skip a beat.” (☞-∀-)☞   
“What? No, my name is Curie. If you are experiencing heart palpitations then we must get you medical attention immediately!”

Piper- “Baby, if you were words on paper you’d be fine print.” (☞-∀-)☞  
“Wow, Blue. I thought I was bad at flirting, but this is next level awful.”

Deacon- “I have a job for you, but it might blow.” (☞-∀-)☞  
“Get any hotter with those pickup lines boss and my pants might spontaneously combust.”

Cait- “I like a woman who can beat my ass in more ways than one.” (☞-∀-)☞  
“I’ll beat yer ass if you don’t stop!”  
(☞-∀-)☞  
“Rrgh! Not in that way!”

Nick- “Nice bolts, wanna screw?” (☞-∀-)☞  
“Think a couple of your wires are crossed, kid.”

Hancock- “Are you lost? Cause it’s strange to see an angel so far from heaven.” (☞-∀-)☞

“Whatever you took, share some next time.” 

Codsworth- “I’ll show you my source code if you show me yours.” (☞-∀-)☞  
“Hah! Well done, sir/mum! These jokes are most enjoyable.”  
“I’m trying to pick you up, Codsworth.” (☞-∀-’)☞  
“Well be sure to lift with the knees, not the back!”

Strong- “Have you been hanging around the Glowing Sea? Cause baby, you look rad.” (☞-∀-)☞  
“Why human talk funny? Strong not baby!”

Dogmeat- “Did you win best in show? Cause you look like a prize to me.” (☞-∀-)☞  
He stares, tongue lolling out of his mouth as Sole bangs finger guns at him for an uncomfortably long time.


	17. Fallout 3 companions react to Lone Wanderer being deathly ill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fo3 companions react to the lone wanderer being really, really sick?

Butch- He’s prepared himself from a young age to deal with loss. He lived with the loss of his father, and prepared himself for the loss of his mother. He knew, even as a child, that one day the drinking would catch up to her, and he would be left without her. But this is different. They were still just kids, kids weren’t supposed to lose their best friends, not until they were crotchety and old. And he doesn’t know what the hell to do about it either. Doc Church tells him to be patient, and that’s all there is for him to do. But he’s never been patient, and he can’t really be expected to sit with a thumb up his ass while Lone might be slipping away. Wadsworth tells him on the third day of their record high fever to get some rest downstairs, that, “There’s nothing you can do for them.” He’s so damn tired of hearing that phrase, he’s so sick of feeling useless, in his frustration and exhaustion, he goes into the living room only to flip over the coffee table. The last of his energy spent, he sinks into a chair with his head in his hands.

Sarge- 101 has the misfortune to fall ill when they’re miles away from any settlement, their supplies all but gone. But RL-3 isn’t about to let his comrade fall to something as mundane as sickness. With some effort he manages to heave them up onto his slick metal body and makes for the nearest town. The trip takes nearly two days, he’s not built for speed after all. They reach their destination eventually. The sergeant hovers at 101’s bedside like a guard dog, and barks orders (sometimes barks literally) at anyone that comes near them without a white coat on.

Charon- He manages to get them to Underworld, to Doc Barrows, yet he doesn’t let the other ghoul take them out of his arms at first. “If you can’t help them…” He doesn’t know what he’ll do. He sincerely doesn’t. His contract binds him to them, but unlike Ahzrukhal, unlike every other bastard that has held his leash, he wants this one to stay. Even if it’s only for another year. “If you can’t help them,” he says again, his teeth grit softly. He lets the gravelly threat in his voice speak for itself, and only then does he let the good doctor and his nurse move 101 to a table. His eyes burn into the back of their heads the entire time they work.

Paladin Cross- Lone is the last of James’ family. Catherine is gone, James is gone, and if this illness progresses any further, there will be no one left to carry on the legacy of the extraordinary family she knew. She won’t let that happen. If they have to strip the cybernetics out of her still beating heart, scrap her for parts, she won’t let them succumb to this. She tells the Brotherhood, no matter the cost, Lone must beat this. Whatever it was. In the quiet moments, when there’s nothing but the steady blip of the heart monitor to fill the room, she holds their hand and recites something she heard a thousand times from Catherine and James when Project Purity was struggling through its infancy. Revelation 21:6.

Fawkes- What knowledge he has of medicine is rudimentary at best, most of it probably outdated a few hundred years, but he uses what he knows to help however he can. 101 saved his life, he owes them this much. His hands are too large and clumsy for most of the delicate work necessary to take care of them, but thankfully the doctor in a nearby settlement is willing to do most of the work once he carries the vault dweller’s wilted body there. There’s not nearly enough room for him inside, so he’s banished to sit outside of the doctor’s office while they did God knows what to the poor child. They’re still just a child, he thinks, the whole thing seems bitterly unfair.

Jericho- The doctor urges him not to smoke around the kid, but what the hell does he know? There’s a good chance he won’t be able to fix them, so what does it matter? It’s not Jericho’s fault they’re laid up like this. Their sorry state does sadden the hardened merc a little. They’re still young, they’ve got a lot ahead of them, and though he might harp on them occasionally, he knows they deserve better than this. So he sits at their bedside, day in and out, smoking like a chimney stack despite the doctor’s repeated warnings. He keeps his gun in his lap. Everyday they degrade, he readies himself to put the kid out of their misery. He doubts that is what they really would want, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the slow rot that awaits them at this rate.

Clover- She holds their hair back to keep them from vomiting in it as they’re hunched over on the side of the bed, hurling their guts out. She rubs their back and tries to soothe them however she can. It isn’t enough. Soon, her lover is bound to their bed, barely conscious half the time, and their hands are limp and clammy when she tries to hold one to her cheek. Clover can’t stop herself from crying. She doesn’t care what illness is trying to take them away from her, she won’t let them go without a fight. She spends many of her nights curled up in their sickbed next, just so they know she’s there, she’s with them, and she isn’t going anywhere.

Dogmeat- He nudges his master’s hand, but they don’t respond. Their breathing pattern is different, in a way he knows is bad. He can smell the sickness inside them. He paces around the campfire that’s long gone cold, whines and noses their head, and only once or twice does he leave to walk up and down a nearby stretch of road. No one comes when he howls out. He returns, sullen. He lays down as close to their body as he can, nudges their arm so it lays over him, and waits.


	18. Fallout 4 faction companions are ordered to execute Sole Survivor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Could you show the faction companions reacting to an order to execute the lone survivor?
> 
> (Some of these requests give me the “Hey kids, can you lighten up a little?” feel. Preston is excluded because I really don’t think he or any of the Minutemen would agree with capital punishment, especially regarding their own General)

Danse- Ever the loyal soldier, he won’t question Maxson’s reasons for wanting Sole dead. He swallows thickly, but doesn’t let an ounce of trepidation show. Something shows. He can’t be sure what, yet it’s enough to make Maxson pause and ask, “Do you have any objections to this, Paladin?” A thousand. “No, sir.” If this is what is asked of him, then he’ll carry out the Brotherhood’s wishes, no matter the cost. This is his family. His brothers, sisters, and the Commonwealth must be protected, even if they call on him to offer up a pound of flesh. And they have many times before. The next he sees Sole, climbing up the steps of the police station, he stops them. Lets them know the enemy they’ve made and what has to come next. Some part of him hopes they just run, far from him, run before the words leave his mouth. But they’re slow. He has no excuse. They turn to take off and a bolt strikes them just between the shoulder blades, with half a dozen shots cracking off around him in quick succession. “Ad Victoriam, brother/sister,” he says as he slides their eyes closed. He asks permission from Maxson to give Sole a proper burial, but he refuses, says they need to perform an autopsy to determine if they might have been a synth infiltrator. This order he can’t accept. He buries them a little outside of the city, where they won’t be disturbed by ferals, and sunny yellow Carrotflowers dot the landscape around them.

Deacon- “No.” Desdemona narrows her eyes at his brash refusal. He’s shocked at how easily the order to kill Sole comes out of her mouth. Sole, who has done so much not just for the Railroad, but for him. Its too much for him to pretend, and he doesn’t bother trying to mask the tremor in his hands. “They played us, Deacon. They’ve been with the Institute all along, are you really too blind to see that?” “What proof do you have? You really expect me to just run out and lynch my partner on your word? No. I won’t do it, I won’t hurt them.” By now his voice has risen loud enough that half of the catacombs can hear him. Good. Let the rest of HQ hear their noble leader’s plan. If she was so willing to kill a loyal member of her own organization, what was to stop her from ordering a hit out on any one of them? “If the Institute left evidence, they wouldn’t-” He jabs an accusatory finger at her and hisses low and firm, “So you haven’t got a damn thing on them. The answer is no, Dez. And if this is the path the Railroad is going to take… killing the people that have helped us get to where we are, without a second thought… then I don’t want to be a part of it. Any of it.” If he had a badge or a gun, he’d slam them down for dramatic effect. Though honestly, he doesn’t have the heart to be dramatic right now, and this is certainly not a situation which warrants theatrics. He storms from the tunnels before anyone can raise a hand to stop him. No one even tries. He takes with him the knowledge that, if she really wanted Sole dead, Dez would find a way. He also leaves with a fear that they might deserve what she has planned for them. That Dez is right and Sole’s loyalty is a facade. That the first person in years he’s trusted   
enough to open old, scarred wounds, has given him even more of a reason to believe his own words. You can’t trust everyone.

X6-88- An order is an order. Sole is a threat, and perhaps the most dangerous one the Institute has faced, being the only one that has gotten far enough to see the heart of their operations. They could bring them down with relative ease. All of this makes sense to him. What doesn’t make sense is the way his movements feel stiff, his mind urging his limbs not to move for his gun. Sole is standing a few feet away from him, unaware, an easy target that would require no energy nor cunning to take out. But he wavers. All the times Sole rushed to him on the battlefield, through a hail of gunfire, just to give him a Stimpak, suddenly come rushing into his thoughts. All the times they’ve acted like he was more than an expendable machine. “Sole,” he says their name for the first time. Their gaze turns on him, unguarded and bursting with implicit trust, but their eyes catch on something and become unfocused before they can meet his. He watches blood pool in their sclera and trickle down their face from the bullet hole in their forehead as they topple to the ground. The pull he felt in the back of his mind wanes and he returns to a state of complete placidity.   
He carries their corpse to Sanctuary, where he leaves them for their friends to find, before relaying back to the Institute to report on his mission’s success.


	19. Fallout 3 companions react to Lone Wanderer crying about James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fallout 3 companions react to the LW randomly starting to cry?
> 
> ANONYMOUS  
> F03 (especially Butch!! Romanced and non romanced) react to 101 crying about their dad

(Platonic) Butch- The simplest things used to set them off when they were both children. It rarely occurred to him Lone might be crying for a reason all those times they burst into tears. He awkwardly digs the toe of his boot against the floor, not quite prepared to look at them. Feels strange to see the big tough wasteland wanderer crying. Almost like he shouldn’t be seeing them when they’re this naked and exposed. “What are you doin’ that for?” he asks tentatively, holding out a rag to them to wipe the tear streaks from their face. “He’s gone.” They don’t need to say who. He knows. In an instant he shrinks. He sighs quietly, hugs his arms close to his chest. “…Y'know, I always kinda hoped…” He swallows thickly, the words that are to come feel like they have to be pulled out of him, but it’s something Lone needs to hear. Something he needs to say. “When Ma used to hit on him, I always kinda hoped he’d agree to go out with her. Thought it’d be…nice… havin’ a dad like him. And I’d get a younger sibling that I could pummel whenever I wanted.” They share a heavy hearted laugh, as Butch can feel his own eyes begin to water. He remembers all the scraped knees and fevers of his childhood, the awkward sex ed, the kind smile that greeted him in the clinic, the way James would pat his shoulder and casually call him ‘son’. He hastily brushes at the corner of his eyes. “Doc was a good guy,” he chokes out.

(Romanced) Butch- He wraps his arms around them before he even knows why they’re crying. Holds them close, squeezes them against himself, like he could strong arm the pain out of their heart if he held tight enough. He hears them sob their father’s name into his jacket and he cringes. “Hey, none of that, nosebleed. Ya’ big crybaby,” he chuckles in the hopes of pulling them out of this before they sink any deeper. He’s no good at this kind of thing. He wishes he was better, but he’s at a loss. It’s different than when he had to take care of his mother, or Freddie after a bad day. This feels like a pain he can’t alleviate. Even if it’s a pain he’s somewhat familiar with. “Guess we’re both bastards now, huh?” Can hardly blame him for now knowing the difference between a bastard and an orphan. He pets their head, and though he wants so badly to speak (if only so he can hear something other than their sob), he keeps his mouth shut. There would be a time for that later. For now, he would hold them, just so they knew he was there.

Charon- The wastes were quiet at night, enough so that the tiniest hiccup caught Charon’s attention. He glances over to 101, tucked into their sleeping roll with their back to him, but he knows they haven’t been asleep. Their breathing never evened out. They’re trying their best not to let him see, yet it’s all too obvious what they’re doing. He thought they were over the crying jags. He thought they had toughened up a little since leaving the Vault, that they wouldn’t do this, that they- And then he remembers. It hasn’t been that long since he watched their father on the other side of that clouded glass. It’s been such a whirlwind, he almost forgot. But they haven’t. He can only listen to them for so long, pretending not to hear, before he chuffs and turns his head away. “He seemed to care a great deal for you.” He glances sidelong to watch them turn over and face him, eyes ruddy and puffed. “Do you want to talk about it?” They curl back up into their sleeping bag, the occasional tear still spilling down their nose, and Charon listens. Talking is far from his strong suit. They don’t seem to mind, they almost don’t expect it from him, as 101 tells him all about the man he’d only known a few days.

Clover- “Hush, my baby, hush.” She strokes 101’s cheek and pulls them into an embrace at the first sign of a glassy sheen in their eyes. The bomb collar around her throat makes it awkward, but she hugs them as wet trails slide down her exposed skin. “C'mon now. You’re so much prettier when you smile.” At first, she only wants them to stop. It brings a heat to the back of her eyes that threatens to drag her into the same sobbing pit as 101. Yet as she speaks, she realizes how much her words sound like the things Eulogy would tell her to shut her up. And how they used to make her feel stunted and twisted up inside. Eventually she stops, cradling their head instead as she tells them, very quietly, “It’s okay, baby. Let it all out.”

Sarge- For once, the Mister Gutsy doesn’t shout orders at them. They’re wasting valuable time, but he doesn’t push them, doesn’t do anything but hover nearby as 101 has to brace themselves against a crumbled pillar to stay on their feet. “It’s alright.” His voice is barely a wisp of his usual commanding boom. “Ain’t no shame in mourning the ones we’ve lost, soldier. So long as we pull ourselves up and dust ourselves off when we’re done.” He taps them with one of his metal claws on the shoulder, before leaving them to guard the perimeter and give 101 as much time as they needed.

Fawkes- He stammers and grasps at any scrap of prose he’s memorized to soothe them, but they’ve all decided to flee before he can catch a stanza or quote that might bring comfort. He hates to see them cry. He knows the deep well of sadness they must be feeling, but not how to help them cope. It’s been ages since he had anyone to speak to, let alone one dealing with loss. “I deeply regret never getting the chance to meet him. He must have been a great man to raise a child like you.” The smile he tries to give them is all rotted teeth and strained facial muscles, but to his gratitude, Lone smiles back through the tears.

Jericho- “Will you shut it?” They look at him like he just slapped them full force across the face. He almost wants to, the way they’ve been blubbering. He takes a long drag off his cigarette and blows the smoke towards the stars. “The hell are you going on about?” Their face scrunches up as a few more tears wobble in their eyes. “My dad…” “So what?” he sneers immediately, “You think you’re the only one to lose their dad out here? Tch. Spoiled Vault assholes… Any idea how many fathers and mothers we’ve both killed?” That shuts them up. They glance down at their weapon, discarded for the moment at their side. “What? You didn’t think any one of those raiders or Enclave soldiers we’ve put a bullet in had a family? I’m sure most of them did. Sure a lot of their little rugrats are a lot younger than you. But out here? Everyone’s an orphan. It’s the law of the lands. So quit your belly aching. You got more time with your old man than most wasters.” They’re quiet after that.

Paladin Cross- James was always kind to her. Their time might have been short, yet she saw what kind of man he was, the love he had for his wife and child. She’s too old to cry and he’s hardly the first person she’s known and lost, so she doesn’t. But Lone is still young, more than a little sheltered. She isn’t too surprised to see them sat with their head buried in their hands. She kneels in her power armor, wanting nothing more than to embrace them. She chooses instead to squeeze their shoulder. “He was a good man,” she says, even though it hardly does him justice in her mind. “He loved you dearly from your first day in this world to his last. I know he would be so proud of all you’ve accomplished.” That wasn’t enough to stop them, but she didn’t really want them to stop. She lets them cry until they’ve got no tears left to spare.

Dogmeat- He whines and nudges their nose, lapping his tongue against their chin. His master’s heartache was obvious even to him, and he just wants them to be happy again, to laugh and scratch him behind the ear. When they hold their hand against his head, he pushes forward, curling himself up in their lap. He just wants them to be happy again…


	20. Fallout New Vegas companions+Benny find out the Courier lost a child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fallout New Vegas companions (+ Vulpes and Benny) reacting to finding out that the courier use to be a very young single parent, but one day lost their child?-Author needing inspiration
> 
> (Tbh I think Vulpes’ reaction would kinda be “huh well thanks for the info that sucks for you” )

Benny- He’s left a string of illegitimate children behind him as long as his string of broken hearts, so Six’s confession doesn’t bother him at first. Having a child, losing it, he sympathizes with them to a point. He’s never been a fount of human kindness, and has little to offer them in the way of condolences. Not like it would matter much. It’s only when they trace the scars in their head, muttering as more of an afterthought, “I used to remember their face a lot clearer.” that he stops and casts his eyes their way. He’s taken a lot from them. Likely more than they’re willing to even admit. He slicks his hair back, his hand resting at the back of his neck. He remembers hearing once that someone lives as long as someone else remembers them, and feels a pang of guilt, like he might as well have put a bullet in both their heads himself. “Well… what do you remember of the little tyke?” he asks. They have a few stories, Benny is much more interested than before in even the mundane ones about teething.   
Though it makes Six’s eyes mist, for a little while, their child is not truly lost.

Boone- He finds a picture of Six (a much younger Six it looks like) and someone bearing a striking resemblance to them. They’ve always had a bad habit of nosing through his personal effects, be that his backpack or his backstory. It’s rare for him to have anything close to personal history on them. But this is something extraordinarily private. He doesn’t bring it up for awhile, though he’s honestly curious. He’s got enough respect for them to not to mention it until they do. “What was their name?” Is his first question. They give him an odd look, and he clarifies, “Carla and I, we always fought over names. Never did settle on one.” They tell him. It’s oddly nice to put a name to the face, and he thinks it suits them. In truth, he’s envious they got a chance to be a parent, even after learning what happened. He never thought he’d ever be father of the year material, but he was excited, as was Carla, and neither of them got a chance to hold the little son or daughter they’d fallen in love with. He never even got to see them. As much as he knows it must have pained Six, having someone and losing them, it was better than what ifs and dreams, and he can’t help but feel spiteful.

Arcade- It’s strange imagining Six with a kid. It’s strange imagining anyone with a kid in the Mojave. He’s seen too many stunted little balls of cells, too young to even be called babies, being delivered at the Fort. To him, having a child make it past infancy is a rare thing to be celebrated, but not really expected. When they reveal they suffered the fate of many parents in the wastes, he clears his throat, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket. “Ah… I see. Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” He doesn’t know what else to say. Obviously he should say something more, an “I’m sorry your kid died” seems like a vastly underwhelming thing to say in the face of this new information. “But, I mean, you have some memories of them. That’s good, isn’t it? I’ve seen a lot of young parents who aren’t so fortunate.” It’s perhaps not as comforting as he might have hoped, but it’s enough to coax a smirk out of them and a soft, “It’s something to be thankful for.”

Veronica- She leans against Six’s shoulder when they tell her. Procreation was and still is one of the Brotherhood’s top priorities within it’s ranks, yet it’s never been something she saw an appeal in. Still, imagining Six with a little baby all bundled up in their arms, she can’t help but smile. “I’m sure you were great at it. Being a parent, I mean.” She slips her arms around theirs and hugs them gently. She won’t pretend to know the pain, or give them hollow apologies for what they’ve gone through, but she’ll stay at their side as long as they need her to.

Cass- “I lost one too.” Cass tips her bottle of whiskey back, then forward by its rim. She squirmed a little under Six’s gaze, but she had let the information slip, might as well press ahead. Too late to really take it back. “Yeah, I’d say it’s only been a few years. Feels a lot longer than that. There wasn’t much of it developed to really miss, but I do sometimes.” She scrunches up her nose. It was something she dealt with, moved on as much as she could from such a thing, but putting it into words is cumbersome, and she’s unable to take the flowery, nuanced approach the subject deserves. So she huffs and slides her bottle towards Six. “It hurts and it never really stops hurting. But as with most ailments, it’s nothing a little booze won’t cure. So salud.” They both raised a glass to the children they’ve lost, but the sorrow tinged night is as much a celebration of what they’ve both got now as it is a remembrance of everything they had.

Raul- He takes them by the arm and pulls them into a hug, whether or not they need one. All the years he’s been alive, and nothing hits him harder than the loss of a child. He’s long been convinced there isn’t a thing the wasteland can throw at a person that can rival the pain of stealing their hope for a future. His voice is thick and wavers a little after he pulls away, “I’m sorry you had to go through that, boss. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” A crooked smile plays on his lips. “My mother used to say that Santo Niño de Atocha looked after the little ones with an especially close eye when they make their way to him. God knows it’s been a long time since anyone has gone to church, but I think it still holds true.” It’s been ages since he prayed for anything, but once Six goes off to bed, he folds his hands together and asks that, wherever she might be, Rafaela take a moment to look after Six’s child.

Lily- She sits Six down, but she doesn’t express sadness, or tell Six she was sorry. She smiles as wide as a Nightkin can, and brushes the hair away from their forehead. “Tell me all about my great grandchild. I want to hear everything.” She might not remember a word of it by tomorrow, but Six tells her anyway. Every story they have and every moment they can think of, and Lily is smiling warmly through it all. “I can’t wait to meet them someday, deary.” Six is left to wonder if she says this in earnest or delusion.


	21. Sole Survivor's favorite place to kiss the companions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> How about Sole's favorite place to kiss the companions?

Preston- In their room in the mornings, after he finishes getting dressed. Preston wakes up at ungodly hours, so by the time he’s prepared for the day, Sole is only just waking up. He looks like he stepped out of a painting of a brave revolutionary when the morning light cracks and floods through the window, and dust motes float around him in the shafts of dawn. They roll out of bed, pad across the room to him, and kiss his cheek as they hold him from behind.

X6-88- Anywhere in public. He still isn’t used to the displays of affection, but Sole takes every chance they get to steal a kiss when people are looking, because they can tell it annoys him and X6 has a cute pout. Especially when he’s torn between embarrassment, annoyance, and a little happiness. He hates how much he enjoys having their attention.

Curie- In her office, when she’s fallen asleep over her work because she forgot that her new body is even capable of passing out against her will. They move away any dangerous medical equipment, drape a blanket over her shoulders, and kiss her on the cheek.

Deacon- Anywhere they can catch him off guard. The two have made a game of grabbing one another from around corners, in disguises, or popping out of the shadows to give each other surprise pecks. Deacon is considerably better at it than Sole is.

Nick- Outside of his office, in front of the heart shaped neon sign. The pink glow glances of his metal in a dazzling array of color. They always stop him on the way out and kiss him, and Nick believes the gesture gives him good luck. He’s never believed in that sort of thing, but for someone like them to actually want to kiss him like that, he figures that’s pretty lucky.

Danse- In the workshop, while he’s working on his power armor. His hands are deft and move through the intricacies of his armor with something close to grace. Danse is not a man of elegance by any means (despite how many syllables he peppers in his sentences, he’s not as refined as he believes he is), but in these instances, he’s an artist. Sole appreciates his skill, and the way the sweat sticks his hair to his face, and they show their appreciation with a kiss on the cheek.

Cait- Under the streetslights in Sanctuary. All the time and effort it took to build the damn things, all of it seemed to lead up to the halo of light they created in Cait’s hair at night. They have to stop her every time they pass one at least once and kiss her, even if it confuses and annoys her.

Piper- In the Publick Occurrences office, when she’s got ink on her fingers and on her nose and she’s bubbling over about some topic she finds her passion in. It happens nearly every time Nat shoves the printing chore on her big sister and she has to talk to keep herself from dying of boredom. Sole finds the chatter endearing and kisses the nape of her neck, inevitably contributing to a typo or two.

MacCready- Wherever they set up camp for the night. They could set up miles away from a living soul, but MacCready would still be wound tight and on edge. Always fearful to let his guard down. He certainly has reasons, Sole understands that. Still, they kiss him and hope to assuage some of his anxiety.

Hancock- Out on the balcony of the state house. The lights of the city are all on display, at night especially, and he overlooks his people with beaming pride. He’s in his element, a king admiring all he’s built, the scene picturesque. Sole also just enjoys kissing him in full view of everyone, just so they all know he’s theirs. The smattering of applause and whistling they normally receive from passers by is a nice touch too.


	22. How Fallout 3 companions+Gob, Nova say I love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> How and when will the Fo3 companions say 'I love you'? (And gob and nova if its alright?)

Butch- It’s on his mind for ages before he says it, and if he was honest with himself, it’s something he’s wanted to say for a few years. But everything sounds too sappy in his head. He’s too stubborn to admit how empty his life would be without them, or that he often lays awake thinking about what to say. Eventually this frustration with himself makes him curt and even more rude with them than usual, until one day he snaps at them over something small. A bullet only just grazes their arm in a fight, and he pushes a stim on them despite their protests, scolding and nearly shouting at them all the while. “You gotta be more careful!” he says like an overbearing parent, “I love you ya’ jackass, you can’t keep-” They both stop dead. He stammers and tries to play it off (“I said I… I-i shove you! I… dove you? Shut up!) but they both know exactly what he said.

Charon- When the urge to protect them morphed from a order he had to mechanically carry out to a near panicked response when they were in danger, he couldn’t be sure. What was once just his job now feels so much more important. He needs to keep them safe. They’re curled up next to him, fast asleep after an encounter with ferals, and though he knows he has no right, he touches their cheek. He never says it aloud, yet it’s the only thing on his mind as he watches them. He doesn’t say the words until glass separates them, and their Geiger Counter is shrieking, and the rotunda is foggy with clouds of radiation.

Fawkes- He wants to find a better way to say it. Something more deserving of a beautiful soul like theirs, some grand gesture or a moving poem, but nothing feels to do it justice. No words seem strong enough to carry the weight of his feelings for 101. “You okay, Fawkes?” they ask him when he’s been staring off into space for a particularly long stretch of time. He looks at them, reaching for something to say, and the words slip out. “I love you.” They’re simple, but he guesses nothing can really describe it better.

Clover- The first time she says it, and she’s not just saying what she thinks they want to hear, is when they’re laying in bed together in the quiet Megaton shack. Their fingers are brushing against her bare shoulder, and it’s the only thing on her mind as she stares at them in the dark. “I love you,” she says softly into the crook of their neck and she slides her arm across their stomach to hold them close. It feels like forever since she really meant it as much as she does this time.

Paladin Cross- Lone is the closest thing to family she’s got. With James and Catherine gone, Cross is sure Lone likely feels the same way about her. She catches the look of mourning in their eyes as they overlook Project Purity and places a hand on their shoulder. “I know it will be hard without him. It might not feel like it at times, but there are people who love you, Lone. I love you like my own blood, and I know the Brotherhood does too. We are a poor replacement, but I hope… perhaps you might find a home with us.”

Jericho- 101 downs what’s left in the tequila bottle and ends up hacking up a lung, doubled over the bartop coughing. Jericho slaps them on the back and wheezily laughs. They peer up at him, seeming a bit embarrassed, and he takes them by the cheek. “God damn it I love you, kid.” It could just be the booze talking, but he’s never felt this fond of the little Vault asshole until this moment, as he plants a sloppy kiss against their neck.

Nova- It’s in the middle of a heated encounter, far from their first, when she’s panting and failing to keep them both quiet for the sake of the other patrons in the bar, that she catches herself breathlessly exclaiming, “I love you, god, I love you!” After their peaks leave them sprawled across the bed, she’s left to wonder if she meant it. She’s never said it before, especially not to a paying customer. They could many things from her, but never those words. But as she’s mapping out the contours of their hands, she finds she doesn’t regret saying it, nor does she want to take it back.

Gob- The kid from 101 is one of few people in Megaton that not only treats him with some respect, but isn’t afraid of touching him. They even make a habit of ghosting their hand over his when they’re accepting their drink. It’s after they come in day after day for weeks, giving him those tiny gestures that haunt him well into the next day, that they finally steal a moment away from Moriarty’s gaze. He takes their hand in his, and instead of recoiling, they push their fingers further into the space between his. He says “I love you” before he can catch himself. Not even if he knows if what he feels for them is love, if he appreciates the kindness they show him or this is real infatuation, but at the moment, he doesn’t really care. There will be time later for self-examination. For now, he’s content just to touch and be touched.


	23. Fallout 4 companions imagine a life with the Sole Survivor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> I would like to see what Fo4 Companions think of when contemplating the rest of their life with SS (romanced or not, it'll be damn good either way)

Nick- He isn’t in any rush to hang up the sleuthing business and settle into marital bliss. He sees himself still in his old office with the eyesore sign ten, twenty years down the road. As long as Diamond City needs him. But if there ever came a time when they didn’t need him, well, he wants to write. The life of a novelist has always appealed to him. He sees himself taking Sole and getting out of Boston, heading out East maybe, anywhere but the Commonwealth. He’ll write a book, a crime serial, and he and Sole could pick up and move wherever the muses are strongest. He’s never liked staying in one place for too long, and he knows the inspiration for his next novel could be a continent away. It’ll be an adventure of his own choosing.

Preston- He wants a farm. He’s always liked working with his hands, and if he could pick any kind of life for them to live, he wants a quiet existence on a little piece of land they’ve got all to themselves. A garden, a cat, maybe two cats, maybe more, a dog, maybe they could even get a few Brahmin. He’s had enough of fighting and running and killing. Sole’s proven they’re good with building things and tilling fields. They could make their own little house, far away from everything. It might be a cliché, but it’s all he really wants. He wants them to be somewhere safe, where the sound of gunfire doesn’t disturb a quiet night.

Deacon- He sees them both retiring after the Institute is defeated and the Railroad’s purpose is fulfilled, settling down somewhere warm with Shaun. He sees him growing out his hair to its natural length, and in these visions of their future he looks a little like himself again. He considers, only for a moment, about changing his face one last time to reflect the man he used to be, when he no longer had to hide from it. But that’s not who he is anymore, and this is the face Sole says they fell in love with. He’s sick of changing honestly. He tells himself that when the day comes, and they can put all of this behind them, he’ll start over. He might even take on “Deacon” as more than his codename. He never liked the name he was given at birth anyway.

Hancock- He never really plans for the future, thinking about it for too long gives him heart palpitations and so he avoids it. He lives in the now as much as possible, because both the past and the future can be frightening concepts. But for Sole, he makes an exception, rather unintentionally. He sees night life and parties, both the ritzy “wine and cheese” kind and the degenerate “Jim, get off the table” kind. He sees himself giving Shaun his first beer and cigar, sharing the State House bed with Sole, and waking up to that face every morning is the most beautiful future he can imagine. Further down the line is when it starts to crumble. He sees Sole getting wrinkles, their hair turning gray. He sees them getting slower and the inevitable moment they hang up their guns and party hat. He sees them growing old without him. And he sees himself living without them. Unless they really do take up his offer and become a ghoul, chances are he’ll outlive them. The first time he thinks this is the first time he truly regrets becoming the closest thing to immortal.

Curie- She often dreams of the innovations and breakthroughs she’ll make, all the places they’ll travel to outside of the Commonwealth, all the diseases she could cure and all the good they could both do and it makes her heart soar. She wants to see as much of the world as she can. She wants them to be by her side through it all. She can imagine no future where Sole isn’t with her.

MacCready- He imagines when their business with the Commonwealth is finished, they’ll head back to DC. Things are a little better in the Capitol. They’ll buy a place in Rivet City (he likes the noise and the smell of the sea there), or Megaton, anywhere big enough to accommodate him, Sole, Shaun and Duncan. He sees their sons growing up, much as he hates to think about Duncan getting big. After they’re old enough to leave the nest, he isn’t sure. Maybe they’ll start traveling, take a trip to New Vegas, San Francisco, who knows? They could go anywhere at all.

Piper- She sees a place by the coast. Maybe they spruce up one of the abandoned manors, maybe they find some small place to call home on the beach. She wouldn’t stop writing, or at least she hopes she won’t, but she also hopes she can write about better things than mayoral corruption and children being snatched in the night. In their future, things will be different because they made them different, and if she wants to write a hopelessly fluffy piece, she can, because there will be no great threat more worthy of her attention. She knows it’s an impossible dream. She knows how bored out of her mind she would be if it came true. But she would give up her life of excitement and intrigue if it meant the Commonwealth, and Sole, were safe.

Codsworth- He wants to fix up the house properly. Ironically, his image of their future is similar to their past; He wants back the white picket fence and the clean floors and the roof without any holes. He sees Shaun reading comics and sir/mum working on one project or another, the green lawn, the friendly neighbors, the rambunctious dog. Some of the neighbors are ghouls, sure, and the lawn will likely never be green again unless mutated, but if he can get back any scrap of the Old World, then he would be content. If anyone understands what “Old World blues” means, it’s Codsworth.

Danse- It’s strange to even think he has a future. He hasn’t had dreams of what his life would be in a long time, since he joined the Brotherhood and his own hope for the future was to fight for Maxson and clean up the Wastes. Now he finds himself with no orders to follow, no great cause to serve, no plan, and as empty as it leaves him at first, he soon realizes how open his life has become. When he thinks of their future, he doesn’t see one possibility or one idealistic hope; He sees a dozen, more than that even. He sees endless prospects and a hundred paths he and Sole could take together, and in an odd way, his future is too bright to imagine.

Cait- She knows how bored she would be in a life like the cover of an issue of Picket Fences. In truth, she doesn’t think about the future much. She’s never planned a day in her life, and she sees no reason to now, even if she’s in love. She plans to take each day as it comes. Were she to really consider what she wants out of a life with them, she has no image of a little house with a set of rocking chairs for their old asses when they become geriatrics. They could end up in some flophouse for all she cares. As long as they’re together, any future is a bright one.

X6-88- He’s not supposed to dream of what his life might be (it’s odd to even think of it as a “life”, that would make him alive, and the Institute insists synths are not truly living things the way humans are) but he finds his mind wandering in ways it never has before. He finds himself wanting, and that in and of itself is a dangerous thing for a synth. He wants to stay with them for as long as they’ll have him. He imagines a life at their side, in the future the Institute has promised for the surface that Sole is going to help create, and it makes him want to fight even harder for the chance to make that future a reality.


	24. Fallout 3 companions react to Lone Wanderer waking up after Project Purity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> So Charon's reactio in the "f03 companions telling sole they love them" post killed me- excellent work! Could we maybe get something fluffy with romanced f03 companions? Romanced companions react to Lone waking up in Broken Steel maybe? Thanks your writing is fantastic!
> 
> ANONYMOUS  
> I'm still playing f03 so if I word things weird please forgive me I hope what I mean comes out because I /know/ what happens but have yet to play that far myself. How do the f03 companions (romanced) react to the Lone Wanderer surviving the whole Project Purity thing? As far as I know they don't even have a reaction to it afterwards
> 
> (Thank you anon numbah 1! Yeah it always bugged me that they don’t have much to say, like I just saved half of DC and almost died, not even a good job? Sarge, Cross, and Dogmeat are excluded because it’s only romanced companions)

Butch- Lone would never let him live it down if they knew he’d cried most of the time they were comatose. He hardly lets go of their hand, and he divides his time between sitting on the edge of their bed rambling, begging them to snap out of it (“C'mon wake up… You can’t just drag me out of the Vault and leave me alone, ya idiot! With all these assholes in power armor and fucking zombies… Please, Lone… just wake up…” ) and wandering aimlessly around the Citadel. The Brotherhood’s dork scribes and their meathead soldiers whisper behind his back and he knows they’re hedging their bets on Lone giving in, and he hates every single one of them for it. They don’t know Lone like he does. But it’s through their gossiping that he hears they’re awake when he’s taking one of his adrift walks through the courtyard. He bolts for the medical ward, pushes several people aside, and by the time he reaches their room, he’s out of breath. Seeing them sitting up in bed, he flings his arms around their neck. Tears are rolling down his cheek before he can stop them and he’s spilling, “You jackass! What the hell is wrong with you? Do you ever think of anyone but yourself? I’ve been losing my mind for two fucking weeks worrying about you!” They meekly apologize for causing such distress, he tries to wipe his eyes, but they’re red and puffy, and the gesture did nothing to hide the fact he had been crying.

Charon- He hasn’t left their bedside since their arrival at the Citadel. People have to work around him, because he refuses to move and no one has the courage to force him out. He eats little of the food they bring him and sleeps less, he simply sits, listening to every blip of the heart monitor and paying close attention to every little change. The first sign of an eye flutter, it’s like a statue coming to life, and he bolts out of his chair immediately to take them by the hand before he realizes he’s moved. He immediately barks for a doctor. He can hear them rushing down the hall towards them, and 101’s eyes look like they’re beginning to focus on him. But when he feels their fingers begin to curl around his, he instinctively pulls away before they become aware he’s holding their hand. By the time the staff come and go and they’re left alone again, Charon finally stands and casts them a look. “Don’t ever do something that foolish again.” He pauses, the stern look in his eyes softening, and adds, “Please…”

Clover- She’s never been a caregiver, and never felt the need to take care of someone until she met 101. But while they’re recovering, she does everything she can for them. She has no medical experience, so she finds other ways of helping them, like brushing their hair to keep the rat’s nest at bay, and keeping them clean. For the most part, she keeps her composure. When their eyes open, everything she’d been bottling up for the past two weeks bubbles over. She clings to them, kisses their cheek like her life depends on it, and sobs her heart out. She’s never been so afraid of losing someone. She holds them for hours after they wake up, her ear pressed to their chest, glad to listen to the sound of their heartbeat instead of the grating beep of a monitor that had filled the silence for days.

Jericho- He gripes at the doctors most of the time he’s there, asking why 101 isn’t up, why they aren’t working faster, why they aren’t at their side every moment until they’ve fixed the kid. They tell him it’s out of their hands, but that’s an answer he won’t accept. These Brotherhood dickbags were supposed to have their shit together and they couldn’t even keep one kid safe. Were it anyone else, he would have left. There was no point in hanging around to see if goody little two shoes woke up. But they’re his goody little two shoes, and he sure as hell didn’t trust anyone in the Citadel to treat them right. He’s sitting, smoking again despite their repeated insistence that he not, and cleaning his gun when they begin to rouse. He looks up from his work, tipping his cigarette up. He feels relief wash over him, his tightly wound muscles relaxing as they look up at him with a groggy look he thought he’d never see again. “Welcome back.” He puts his cigarette out on his metal shinguard and props his gun against his chair. “Enjoy your little vacation? Because I sure as hell ain’t sticking around this place another day, these guys have got their heads so far up their own asses… Keep tryin'a stick me in one of those retarded suits. How ya’ feel?” “Like a Brahmin rammed me in the head.” He laughs, “At least you’re alive.” He leans over them and plants a kiss on their forehead, his thumb tracing the contour of their cheek. “I’m…” He heaved a sigh, his gaze flickering across their face. “I’m glad you’re okay, kiddo.”

Fawkes- He isn’t allowed anywhere near them after they’re hauled out of the Jefferson Memorial, and is only left to wonder what became of them after that. Anytime he gets anywhere near the Citadel, bullets kick up dust around his feet. The Brotherhood has no tolerance for meta humans like him. He finds a spot under a ruined overpass where he is mostly hidden, but has a view of the front gate, and there he waits. The Wastes are too quiet, they leave him too much time to worry if Lone is even alive in there, and the silence lets his primal side claw back into his thoughts. He finds a radio to keep him company. Weeks pass, and finally he hears the gates groan open. A familiar figure steps out. He knows he should wait until they’re further away from the guards, but he can’t stand it, he darts out of his hiding spot and rushes towards them, oblivious to the shots cracking off around him from startled Brotherhood knights. Lone runs out to meet him and Fawkes drops to his knees, gathering them up in his arms to hug them. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry I wasn’t with you!” Lone hushes him and wipes at the tears streaking his skin. The gunfire settles, no one disturbs the two, no matter how many of the Brotherhood feel about their relationship. Fawkes holds Lone as tightly as he can without hurting them, and prays they never have to be apart for that long again. He’s spent enough time without a soul to turn to, and he isn’t about to let them go.


	25. How Charon, Butch, Jericho and Clover treat the Lone Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Do you have any headcanons sfw pls about how butch, Charon, clover, and Jericho are with lone wanderer? (Romantic please?) also thank you for all the hard work you do with this blog! I imagine it can get a lil tiring to keep up on and also have such quality analysis of the characters! It's really refreshing and pleasant to read your writing, so thank you once again!
> 
> (Thank you for reading it! It’s not that bad, it’s a great exercise to make sure I write a little every day. I have to take a day every now and then to work on commissions or my own writing project but I enjoy it and I enjoy expanding on the great ideas you all send me <3 )

Butch- He might be their boyfriend, but first and foremost, he’s an annoying little shit of a tormentor. He does whatever he can to bother them; he steals blankets, presses his feet against them when they’re cold as ice, and has more than once put firecrackers under the toilet seat. But more than anything, he’s clingy. It gets a little better after he’s been in the Wastes a few months, but for awhile, he never ventures far from Lone’s side, and has spent a lot of nights with his arms and legs wrapped around them in bed.

Charon- He takes pleasure in small acts of disobedience and spontaneity. Living most of his life a slave with little free will, he likes that he has found someone who will allow him to do something simply because he feels like it. He often steals quick kisses, each one a great gesture of rebellion in his mind. He also has a fascination with Lone’s hands, and in their moments of downtime, if he’s not watching them work, he’s sliding his fingers along theirs to trace the lines in their palm.

Clover- She likes getting as close as she can to them. Eulogy never was one for cuddling, raiders rarely are, so she happily spends their calm days curled up against Lone’s chest. She’s gentle, and the two take care of each other. Clover makes sure they take Rad-X after any encounter with ferals, Lone makes sure Clover eats at least twice a day. 

Jericho- He outright rebukes any romantic, hand holdy, lovey dovey bullshit, as he calls it. Although constantly telling them they need to toughen up to make it in the Wastes, he’s also quick to get between them and anyone that tries to screw them over. The only way to really crack open the former raider’s tough exterior is to ply him with booze, and when he’s good and drunk, that’s when the old ghosts come calling, and all he really wants is for Lone to hold his head in their lap.


	26. Fallout 4 companions react to Sole Survivor getting addicted to Pip Boy game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fallout 4 companions react to Sole getting addicted to a game on their pipboy and refusing to eat, sleep, or socialize because of it?

Deacon- He takes advantage of their fugue state to hang lampshades, hats, and any other junk he can find on top of their head. It soon becomes a contest of how far he can go before they notice, but three pairs of glasses piled on their nose later, he gets bored and wanders off.

Piper- She peeks over their shoulder and approaches them almost cautiously. “So… still playing that game huh? Not getting’ tired?” She waves her hand in front of their face, but gets no response. She tries poking, shaking, to no avail. Its gets to the point she just sticks the occasional bit of food in their mouth and leaves them to their own devices.

Nick- It only takes a few hours for him to grow tired of hearing the endless blips of the game. He grabs a screwdriver, forcibly pops out the holotape and Pip-Boy battery, and smashes the game under his heel. “You’ll thank me.”

Cait- She grabs a bonesaw when all other measures fail and threatens to cut the Pip-Boy, or arm, off.

Curie- She drags her equipment over to monitor Sole’s brainwaves and test the effects the game has on their brain. The results are the equivalent of an electronic death knell for most of their brain cells.

Preston- “General. General, people are dying. General. What is wrong with you? Sole oh my Goood what are you doing? The people in Abernathy Farm were literally carried away by giant bugs. GENERAL-”

Hancock- He knows the allure of the Red Menace a little too well, and it takes great restraint on his part not to fall into the same pit Sole is in. The last time he played that game, he didn’t stop until his eyes bled.

Danse- He accuses the game of being a mind control device from the Institute.

Codsworth- He tries talking them out of it, and when that doesn’t work, he scoops them up and carries them home and puts them to bed. They don’t sleep, but in the morning Codsworth picks them up again and pretty much pilots them during the duration of their game.

X6-88- Despite thinking it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever seen, he sits next to them to watch. Two days later, neither have moved.

MacCready- He tells everyone to back off, Sole is about to beat the high score and needs to focus without the rest of the companions being nosy.

Strong- After a day of not fighting anything, he picks them up and dumps them in the nearest nest of feral ghouls to snap them out of it.

Dogmeat- He paws at his food bowl and whines most of the time, nudges them, and when his efforts fail he stalks off to find someone else that will feed him.


	27. How Benny, Butch, Hancock and Cait take care of PC with a cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Could you please write Benny, Butch, Hancock, and Cait reacting to a romanced LW, Courier, or Sole catching a cold? Sucker for the cute fluffy stuff

Benny- He’s actually pretty terrible at taking care of someone. He lends them his bed, and kind of loiters around it, not knowing if he should be doing anything else to help. He leaves them a roll of toilet paper for their runny nose and a bucket in case they need to vomit (people did that right?) and kisses them on the forehead before awkwardly backing out of the room. He gives them whatever they ask for, but beyond that, he does the bare minimum.

Butch- He wears his shirt with the collar pulled over his nose and mouth whenever he has to interact with Lone, but still does what he can to take care of them. He sure as hell isn’t catching it though. For all he knows it’s some weird mutated cold virus that made you one of those zombies. Despite his cautious attitude, he brings them food and warm drinks (he doesn’t have the supplies for tea or coffee so he just heats up Nuka Cola in a mug) until they feel better.

Hancock- At the first sign of a sniffle, he takes them by the hand and puts them to bed. None of their protest sway him and he makes sure to bundle them up in a warm blanket before going to heat a can of chicken noodle soup, one of few left in the Wastes. When they fall asleep, warm and content, he stays by the door of their room to turn anyone away that comes wanting something from Sole. They needed a day off adventuring anyway. 

Cait- When it becomes clear Sole is coming down with something, she gets her hand on some honey and few lemons from a nearby settlement for the low low price of an arm and a leg, and practically drags them to bed. She doesn’t have all the ingredients for a Hot Toddy, but makes do with what she has and comes back awhile later with a steaming mug of honey, lemon, water, and a shot of whiskey. It does its job pretty well; Sole is knocked out and breathing a little easier within a few minutes of finishing it off. Cait sits by the bed once they’re out and helps herself to what’s left of the honey and whiskey


	28. Fallout 4 companions ideal date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ACONSTANTSTATEOFSONDER  
> Okay first off your blog is beautiful and you are beautiful and I <3 your writing style it is great ??? Can I request romanced companions Fallout 4 ideal date with Sole? Like how does it go and what the characters would do and stuff? ^^
> 
> (Thank you omg you’re so beautiful too <3 X6 is excluded because his ideal date would probably be to not go on a date )

Hancock- He might be one of the few with a solid plan. He gets Fahrenheit and a few others to go to Swan’s Pond and clear out Swan’s bloated carcass (not a romantic start, hang in there) as well as to dispose of any traces of nuclear waste, anything that might be an eyesore or unhealthy for a human. None of them stop complaining during the process. Once all is said and done and the place has been perfumed enough to hide the stink of decaying Super Mutant Behemoth, he leads blindfolded Sole through the streets, guiding them to the pond. When they arrive, he takes off the blindfold, and the entire park is lit up with strings of Christmas lights. Twined around trees and hanging overhead, there are a few hundred differently colored bulbs twinkling in the dark and gleaming in the reflection of the pond. Under the gazebo, he’s set up a table and chairs, Irma supplied a nice vase for the flowers as well as a tall candle and clean table cloth. Hancock has no idea where she gets most of her mostly intact decorations but they set the mood nicely. After dinner, they spend the rest of the night watching the colors dance off the water’s surface. For awhile, as though respecting the peace they deserve, the Commonwealth pauses it’s parade of violence, and not a single gunshot or scream is heard for miles. The whole world stops just for them.

Preston- He wants everything to be perfect. If anyone in the Commonwealth deserves a night to themselves, it’s the Minutemen’s General. He sends out a clandestine order among the Minutemen that for a few hours, any alert they receive goes to someone other than Sole. Thankfully they don’t get anything worse than a radroach infestation that night. He sends out a message over the airwaves, knowing that this is the time Sole usually tunes in, and urges them to come to the Castle. He doesn’t say why. When they arrive, he’s standing atop the Castle’s walls, and the courtyard is all but empty. He’s claimed a little patch of grass where a few wildflowers grow, on the rampart that overlooks the sea. He even manages to find a picnic basket for the occasion. They munch on bits of fried Brahmin and Dandy Boy Apples, and watch the sun set across the ocean.

Nick- He’s a little rusty at the whole romance thing. But he feels an obligation to make the date a good one. He wears a suit and cleans up as best he can. For once, he doesn’t look ready to fall apart without his trenchcoat, and his clothes have no tears or mud stains. He takes them to an abandoned building which towers over Boston, mostly intact. The top floor has no roof. From this height, the entire Commonwealth is spread out before them, and they get an unobstructed view of the sky, every star on display by the time night comes. The Wastes, for all its ugliness -the killing, the kidnapping, the bad things that always struck the good people- still had some beauty. Way above the city, they could look out and not see bodies sprawled in the street. They could appreciate it for what it was. So there they sit, huddled under a blanket, gazing out at the Commonwealth and the stars which hung above it.

Cait- They make their way to the Combat Zone, although things start out a little roughly when they have to slaughter a few raiders, and they’re date night clothes are stained with blood by the time they get there. It’s not a place that holds very pleasant memories for Cait. She’s hoping to change that. Their dinner subsists mostly of booze, although Tommy cooked up a decent meal for the two of them. When both are a little unsteady on their feet and a little red around the face, Cait takes Sole by the hand to pull them on stage for a cage match. She punches just a little harder than Sole does, but neither aim to hurt each other. They only last a few minutes in the ring before Cait scoops up Sole around the waist and topples them both over. She laughs harder and more sincere than she has in a long time, and the rest of their date is spent on the mat, tangled in each others arms.

Curie- She only starts thinking about a date after being teased by the other companions. She and Sole had been together awhile, yet hadn’t gone on anything remotely resembling a date. Of course, they were all pretty eager to throw their two cent in the conversation of where they should go and what they should do. They pretty much all tell her what the ideal date is. In the end, she settles on a quiet night in, a bottle of wine (she only gets a glass in before she’s tipsy and has to stop) and they curl up on the couch, simply to enjoy each others company.

Deacon- He’s a man of simple tastes. Their date is held at the Dugout Inn where, after a couple of Mirelurk steaks, the two spend the next two hours drinking and trying to get a piece of perfectly preserved pie. Deacon caught the wistful look Sole threw to it when they arrived, one of the only things from before the war that remained. He fails to get it, of course. Sole gives it a shot after he admits defeat and does the impossible; the claw wraps around the plate and gently deposits it on the tray. The entire bar bursts into an uproar. People scream, kiss each other, one guy gets punched, it’s complete pandemonium for a few minutes. The date ends after they both take a bite, share it with the rest of the patrons, and everyone ends up fighting for the toilet to throw up. Turns out the pie did not keep at all. It was ideal up until that point at least? Deacon is nice enough to hold back Sole’s hair and they return the favor by holding onto his wig as he’s doubled over a potted plant in the corner. It remains his ideal date for the simple fact it’s a real story that sounds like one he made up.

Piper- She takes Sole on a tour of Diamond City. A proper tour, since when they first arrived, the welcome was rushed and not too friendly. She figures she’s owed it to them for awhile. She speaks like its their first time in the city, and she takes them from her offices at Publick Occurrences to the Noodle Stand for a bite to eat, to the Dugout Inn for a drink. They link arms and idly stroll around the place when night falls. She insists that, as a tourist, Sole has to run the bases, and they end up racing across home plate a few times before they’re both panting laughter. Nat has been asleep for hours by the time they creep back to Piper’s place, so they walk gingerly and end up collapsing on the couch, where Nat finds them the next morning, asleep on top of each other.

MacCready- He tries a little too hard. He borrows a tuxedo more suited for a wedding than a date and slicks back his hair with an old tin of grease, brushes his teeth fifteen times, and scrubs the dirt from under his fingernails. It’s been quite awhile since he’s done any of those things. He asks Codsworth to make them a proper “Pre-War” style dinner and manages to get a table and chairs up on the roof of one of the more stable buildings in Sanctuary. Sole arrives and he wants to desperately to make this night go well, he stains his under shirt with stress sweat. Codsworth burns the dinner, the candle he brought for mood lighting gets knocked over and almost sets fire to the table, and pretty much anything that could go wrong, does. When they finally declare the date dead, and MacCready is ready to go die of embarrassment himself, they pass the Brahmin pen nearby. In one last ditch effort to salvage the date, he tears off his jacket, hops over the fence, and declares they should tip one of them. He tries to impress Sole by doing it alone, but misjudges how heavy Brahmin are. He slips when he tries to take a running start and faceplants into a patch of mud. Sole laughs and he wonders at the misfortune plaguing him tonight. They aren’t laughing so hard when he grabs them by the wrist and hauls them off the fence and into the mud with him. They wrestle, howl with laughter, shove fistfuls of mud all over each others nice clothes, and by the time they’re done, they’re both caked in filth, negating all the prep work MacCready had done before to look clean for them. It’s not what most would consider ideal, but he can’t think of anything he’d rather be doing than walking home with Sole, covered head to toe in muck.

Danse- It’s been so long since he’s even been on a date, he’s unsure what to do. He considers a dinner, a picnic, but nothing seems good enough for them. Eventually, after nearly wanting to tear his hair out from self imposed stress, he constructs a meticulous outline for their evening, everything planned almost to the minute. They arrive at the Third Rail ten minutes later than he anticipated (he would go somewhere with less ghouls, but even he can’t deny the lounge has a better atmosphere than the bar in Diamond City). The plan was a drink, then in twenty minutes they would leave Goodneighbor and see old monuments, which they would observe for at least an hour to two hours. He cut out a half hour chunk in his outline for “miscellaneous activities”. He consults the plan he’s laid out on a scrap of paper no less than five times while they sit at the bar listening to Magnolia’s dulcet tones, and his eyes dart to. the clock at least every three minutes. He’s about to put the next part of his plan in motion, stepping down off the bar stool, when Sole stops him. “Let’s dance.” He goes rigid. He tries to tell them that isn’t part of the plan, but they take his hand and draw close to him. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Magnolia, who chuckles softly into the mic and starts singing a slow ballad. Danse is not a elegant man. There’s a reason he didn’t include dancing, and that’s because, (ironically, for being named Danse) he’s got two left feet. He stumbles, steps on toes, and is generally just awkward in his movements. But Sole is patient. They take it slow, even content to just sway in place, and within a few minutes of merely being close, Danse’s plans are forgotten.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fallout NV companions react to Muggy or Toaster after the courier brought them back from Big MT?
> 
> ANONYMOUS  
> New Vegas companions waiting for the courier to return at the Lucky 38, seeing the elevator doors opened with the courier holding both Muggy and Toaster from Big MT. (Also, I deeply love your reaction blogs. especially one's with Boone on it. Can't wait to see more of them :D )
> 
> (Thank you anon numbah two! Muggy, Toaster, and most of the characters in the Sink are my fave robot babies)

Arcade- He’s fascinated by the complexity of their AI, in particular Muggy. Their level of self awareness wasn’t something often found in artificial intelligence, but he finds it odd, even a little sad, that they gave the little Securitron a hellish neurosis. He’s perhaps the most understanding of Muggy’s mindset, and makes sure to kneel and pat them on the back whenever they have one of their “lowkey want to die” moments.

He has far less sympathy for Toaster, and blissfully turns a blind eye whenever he sees someone trying to dismantle, shoot, or sell them off. There was always the possibility of their personality making it into the body of a bigger robot, and the psychotic little idiot wouldn’t be so funny then. Not only that, but Arcade kept confusing them with the actual toaster and ending up with burnt hunks of bread near every morning.

Boone- He avoids the kitchen area entirely after the introduction of the new roommates. Muggy often begs him to take his rifle and blow their tiny robotic brains out. (“You don’t even have to do it! Just leave me in the room with it for a little bit! For the love of mugs, why won’t anybody let me die?!” )

Cass- She discovers a new sport in finding creative ways to torment them. She pretends to suddenly be a devout follower of Toaster, and when they instruct her to go out and do their bidding, she leaves them outside on the Strip with a sign that says “Free Toaster, Mint Condition”. They get returned after a day by a less than pleased buyer.

She teases Muggy by never leaving a dirty dish around the Lucky 38, thus stealing the joy they take in cleaning them, and also takes the ones Muggy has already collected and leaving them in a trail to the elevator. Once they’re inside, she uses the hotel maintenance terminal to keep it going perpetually up and down, and traps them inside for the better part of the day. She uses the time they’re stuck to hide his dishes all over again. She only stops after Muggy rats on her to Six.

Raul- He joins in on Cass’ plan, his more notable devious acts being the time he fiddled with Toaster’s voice module so they speak with a high pitched, girlish voice, and the other time it was considerably sped up, chipmunk voice, and at one point he even triggers their Spanish mode. He and Cass nearly bust stitches when he gets more than one mode going at once, and Toaster is lobbing pitched shifted Spanish curses at them.

He actually feels somewhat bad for neurotic one, so he leaves Muggy to their own devices. He also makes sure to leave any of his dirty mugs on the floor so he doesn’t walk in on Muggy hysterically sobbing, trying to reach a cup on a shelf. Again.

Veronica- At first, she can’t stop laughing, breaking into giggles at almost every word either of them says. The novelty of both of them wears thin for her after a day or two. Breakfast becomes a chore; between finding where Muggy is hoarding all of the mugs in the Lucky 38, and Toaster’s tendency to burn toast to a blackened crisp, they both make life substantially more difficult. She begs Boone more than once to assassinate at least one of them, she doesn’t care which.

Lily- She carries Toaster around like a baby after Six introduces them and Muggy (against both of their wills) as “the great-grandchildren”, and simply rocks them like a fussy infant when they go on one of their tangents. It doesn’t help much but the others certainly get a laugh out of Lily hushing, rocking, and even burping a small, pissed off toaster.

Muggy is far more susceptible to the coddling, and Lily is the only one that will hold them while they cry and have their never ending mug centric existential crisis.

Rex- While at first leery of the two, Toaster somehow talks Rex into putting them on his back, and proclaims the robotic dog to be their hellhound, their trusty steed that will carry them into battle to slaughter their enemies and raze what’s left of the world, that their reign will make the bombs seem like pale terrors compared to them. Rex takes one step towards world domination and the toaster falls off almost immediately. Rex leaves without them. Toaster screams their rage well into the night.

Muggy teaches Rex to fetch coffee cups. Their friendship is far more beneficial than Toaster’s.

ED-E- Toaster tries to preach about how ED-E has the freedom to take over the world if he would only get someone with arms to mount a death laser on his eyebot body, and Muggy won’t stop asking him for lifts to reach the top shelves. He’s never been more ashamed of his own kind.


	30. Fallout New Vegas companions+Benny having to carry injured Courier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MUNGO-HATEGROUP  
> Fallout new vegas companions (+benny) reacting to courier hurting their leg and having to get the companions to carry them?
> 
> (ED-E and Rex are excluded because they ain’t got arms for carrying)

Benny- Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprising to anyone who knew Benny before he started bathing in cologne and wearing vertigo inducing suits, the Ben-man is more than capable of slinging Six over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and doesn’t really hesitate to do so when he sees the blood running down their leg. He jabs them with a Stimpak and starts for the nearest settlement, chuckling, “What would you do without me?” Arguably their life would be better if they had never met him, but for the moment, they’re glad he’s there, and that they’re awkwardly hanging over his back.

Arcade- He tends to the injury and hopes that’s enough to get them back on their own two feet, but they make it clear they can barely handle to put their full weight on it. He sighs heavily. Their camp is at least a half hour away. But he’d much rather suck it up and carry them than spend another moment in the middle of a bunch of raider corpses, which are beginning to stink by the time he finishes patching Six up. He tries. He really does try to pick them up, bridal style, but once he actually gets them in his arms and manages to stand, he misjudges their weight and his own physical strength, and only makes it a few steps before he catches his foot on something and they both go tumbling to the ground. He twists his ankle. They link arms and hobble back to camp, both relying on the other as a crutch.

Boone- He frowns at them with silent condemnation, frowning sourly when they sheepishly admit they can’t walk. If they had been more careful this could have been avoided. He doesn’t give them a moment to brace themselves before he grabs them by the arms and around the knees and heaves them up with relative ease in a fireman carry. He’s quiet on the slow trek back towards camp, and although he doesn’t complain about the extra weight, there are beads of sweat on his brow by the time they’re near their destination. He rather unceremoniously drops them on a bedroll and huffs, “Don’t make me do that again.”

Lily- Being a gigantic Nightkin, it’s no real shock that Lily can pick Six up. She coddles them like a big baby and tries to soothe them like one too. “Aww, poor Jimmy! Did you get a boo boo?” Six would argue a bullet wound is far from a boo boo but agrees. “Yeah, gran, I got a really bad boo boo. Would you mind maybe carrying me home?” “Grandma will kiss it all better, deary.” Before Six can protest, she lifts them up to her face and kisses the gaping wound, which is awkward and more than a little disgusting for a myriad of reasons. A) It’s a big open bullet hole, and B) Lily’s lips are near impossible to pucker up for a kiss, so not only does she just press her teeth to it, but when she pulls away, her mouth is covered in blood. Six suppresses a gag and doesn’t look at her face on the way back.

Veronica- Despite being somewhat smaller than Six, the girl’s got muscles. She hefts them on her back and falls into an easy stride. And all the way back, she teases them. “What did we learn today?” “Never run into a firefight unprepared,” Six grumbles. “And who’s the best gal in the Mojave for helping you?” “You are, Veronica…” “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” “You are, Veronica! I am in incredible pain right now!” “And whose fault is that?” “I’m never bringing you with me again.”

Cass- “Like hell I’m lugging your ass on my back all the way back to Vegas!” While Six is propped up against a rock to mend the wound, Cass grabs the uninjured leg and begins to drag them through the sand. Six tries fighting at first, but this proves to be a fruitless endeavor that only serves to piss her off more, so eventually they just accept their fate and let her pull them across hot asphalt, very large rocks, and at one point during the journey, a very thorny bush that she probably could have avoided.

Raul- “Well, I guess you’re gonna just get eaten by nightstalkers, boss.” He’s not about to even attempt to carry them, he can hardly handle carrying the junk they give them, lord knows what they have weighing them down in that magic bag that could fit a missile launcher. “Raul, I could really use a hand here-” “Should have thought of that before you pissed off a radscorpion.” He hauls them to their feet, hands them a Stimpak, a dose of Med-X and a Radaway, and wishes them luck keeping up. He’s gonna go visit the watering hole in the last settlement they passed.


	31. Fallout New Vegas+DLC companions react to a hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> new vegas companions +dlc companions react to the Courier giving them a hug (bc goddamn fo they need one)

Arcade- He’s caught up in his usual neurotic whirlwind, thinking of the thousand things they need to get done, while trying very hard to make it appear like his mind isn’t in fifteen different places at a time. As good as he was at hiding his truly anxious, anal attentive self (like he was just a disturbed reptile wearing the skin of a human, trying to blend in) there was no hiding it from Six. Arms lock around him from behind without warning and he nearly jumps out of his skin (which would have revealed his true reptilian self). He cranes his neck to look back at the smirking face peering over his shoulder. “Why?” he asks flatly. “Cause,” they reply, equally even toned, and their arms coil a little tighter around him. He isn’t sure what to do with himself. He stands, locked in their embrace, but it isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as he might have thought. It’s like being cocooned in a heavy warmth. How long has it been since someone was bold enough to hug him? If he really thought back, it was his mother who last held him like this. He sighs, and every bit of trepidation seeps out on his exhalation, leaving him to melt into the warm body behind him. For awhile, he can just focus on the starch making Six’s shirt stiff, the chest rising and falling against his back, and the quietness of his own thoughts. He hopes to always be so lucky as to have someone that can tame the whirlwind in his head.

Boone- Six levels him with a soft gaze, but he instinctively sneers, thinking it must have been fueled by some desire to patronize him. Poor Boone, the widower, the man who deserved all the pity in the world for being the pitiful creature he was. Six speaks and surprises him; “Are you alright if I hug you?” He blinks behind his glasses, the scowl softening into a look of surprise. “Why would you want to?” They just smile at him. “Some folks need a hug now and then.” He stares at them, and doesn’t reply. He doesn’t say yes, but then again, he doesn’t say no. They shift closer and he still doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t say no. They wrap an arm around his frame, but not quite. They hover, push their arm further across his shoulders by small increments, moving by inches until their hand is gingerly cupping his far shoulder. On the other, they rest their head. Still, he tells them nothing, but after what feels like a long moment of silence, he leans his head against theirs, and breathes deeper than he has in a very long time. It finally feels like he is allowed the luxury of a deep breath.

Veronica- She doesn’t have a chance to congratulate Six on the win at Hoover Dam before she’s swept off her feet, crushed in a bear hug that steals her breath and makes her scream something like laughter in her surprise and elation. When she’s put back on her feet, Six apologizes, but she’s having none of it. She throws her arms around their shoulders and theirs snake around her waist, and it’s there they stay as the world seems to crawl to a stop around them. Just for them. She’s sure she’s hurting them as much as they’re hurting her in the embrace (she vaguely remembers hearing her back crack not long after she was swept up and Six seems to be wheezing just a tad) but neither bring it up. A little pain is worth it, worth keeping this going as long as either of them can keep it this way. By the end, when she finally releases them, her arms are stiff- but her head is clear, and her footsteps just a little lighter.

Lily- Leo is especially loud. She doesn’t know why. There are some moments, he urges her to do all these awful things she knows she doesn’t want to do, and he’s so insistent, and he’s so loud, she feels she’ll be swallowed up by the noise. Something is around her waist and she looks down to see Six smiling up at her, tiny form (tiny compared to her) doing everything it could to engulf the Nightkin twice their size. The din of Leo’s voice rolling around like a loose marble in her skull quiets, and she can almost think again. She doesn’t ask what brought this on- she grabs Six, plucks them clean off the ground, and hugs them as if her life depends on it. Some days, it feels like it does. Six is the only tether Lily has left. She holds them as tight as she can.

Raul- It had been an exceptionally long life, the life Raul lived before he met Six. A lonely one at that. He appreciated the company, as hectic and insane as it was, and whether they were killing drug addled madmen or firing a rocket of ghouls into the sunset, he was just glad to be by their side. When they laugh at some old story of his and so casually hug him against them, it takes him a little aback. It’s a gesture he hasn’t received in so long. It was easy to forget the pleasures he took for granted before the war, when tiny things like a hug or a peck on the cheek just happened, and simply vanished from his life without much thought once Rafaela was gone. He didn’t even consider, as Six slung their arm around him, that it was over two hundred years ago when last he held his little sister, and perhaps longer than that since he was held himself. Without thinking, he slips his arm around them in turn. It just feels right. There’s no sadness or overwhelming memories of everything he had before the bombs fell, just an appreciation that he found someone willing to risk secondhand radiation just to let him feel human contact again.

Cass- She’s not fond of hugs. They’re more intimate than intimacy, and unless it’s a family member, only people that gave a shit about you hugged you. Which made Six’s lingering embrace all the more panic inducing. People didn’t care about Cass. Not like this, not in this way, and instead of feeling safe and warm as she should, she feels overwhelmed with an unreasonable sense of anxiousness hidden just under the surface. Being cared for brought with it expectations, expectations she would undoubtedly never meet, because she just never did. She failed her caravan, her father in a way- drinking in some two-bit bar was all she was really good for. She stiffens the longer it goes on, holding her breath until they release her and give her an odd look. She jams a finger in their chest. “Don’t. Don’t do that,” she mutters and picks up her rifle from the ground. It didn’t matter if she liked it, or if that small amount of contact meant more than the nights she spent in tumbles of sheets with some stranger, she will not play this stupid game of friendship or… or whatever the hell this was between them. She would only end up losing, or fucking up whatever they had. Fucking up and drinking, those were her strong suits and she had every intention of pursuing them.

Rex- He excitedly licks their face when their arms envelope his neck, eagerly rubbing his muzzle under their chin. He climbs into their lap, without much care that he’s too big to be a lap dog, and nearly tips them over when he leans his full weight into them. It goes without saying that Rex likes hugs, really, really likes hugs.

ED-E- As much as he enjoys the contact, and chirps his appreciation, it makes him a little sad he can’t return the favor. He curses his lack of arms.

Joshua- Most of the tribals in the valley are afraid of touching him, whether out of respect or out of concern for the burns, but Six is not a tribal, and evidently, free of that fear. They’re still as gentle as possible, yet even that is still enough to make him hiss and tense. Their grip loosens until his rigid muscles relax, then, inch by inch, their arms encircle him. He doesn’t know why they feel the need to do this, doesn’t ask, and even he’s not sure why he doesn’t. Is he more touch starved than he realized? Is it worth the pain, just to be held by someone? He breathes in the moment, even when the feeling his chest expanding against them sends knives gliding slowly down his torso like a man being flayed. Yes, he thinks. It’s worth it.

Dean- He awkwardly pats them on the head, not sure what else he’s expected to do. “Yeah… Nice seeing you too, kiddo.” It’s been a long few days, weeks- hell, if he was honest, it’s been a long life. He’s never been more tired than he was in the Sierra Madre, and as much as he liked to pretend he was just as spry as when he had skin back in the old days, he’s tired. Maybe more than even he realized. When he’s got this cooky Courier wrapped around him, he feels like suddenly, they’re the only thing keeping him on his feet. The longer they hold onto him, saying nothing so he has nothing else to focus on, the more he feels the years press down on him. His hand slips from their head to his side. He leans a little into them, releases a sigh that feels like its been rattling in his chest for centuries. “…Thanks kid.”

Christina- There was a lot to learn about the Sierra Madre, and she knew if anyone was going to unearth whatever secrets Elijah had, it would have to be her. But Six made her decision to stay no easier when they pulled her into a warm embrace. She laughs somberly, a small sound that grates her still raw throat, and hugs them back. Her fists clench around the fabric of their shirt, and she wants so desperately to ask them to stay. But she would never be that selfish, would never tie the Courier down to a place like this. She nestles her nose into their neck, she wants to commit their scent to memory. By now, their real scent has washed away. Now, they smell like the Cloud. She focuses instead on the way their arms form around her. Anything to remember the person that has helped her so much. She gives them a tap on the cheek when they finally pull away. They part ways with few words. After everything they went through, neither of them need many to convey what they feel. Even without being mute, Christine knew there is more power in gestures than phrases as final as goodbye.

Dog/God- Six’s body pressed up against him soothes his stomach’s incessant gnawing, even if it’s only for a few minutes. He rumbles deep in his chest, appreciative of the contact, closer to a cat purr than a Dog. It does nothing to quiet the other voice in its cage, if anything it makes it worse, growling and annoyed and urging Dog to stop letting Six treat him like a pet, but he snaps at it to shut up. He likes this; not even the voice’s nagging and chewing inside his skull can make him push Six away.

Dog/God- “What do you think you’re doing?” He gapes at the audacity they have to hug him without permission, but Six just smirks at him. “C'mon, big guy,” they say in an annoyingly upbeat tone, “Everyone needs a hug!” He easily engulfs their face (and most of their head) with one hand and pushes them off, as easy as picking up a toy and putting it back its proper place. “No.” They pout, looking like they were debating trying again. Apparently they think better of it and mumble, “Fine, I’ll hug Dog extra hard then next time he’s around. You’ll get one whether you like it or not.” They really perplex him with their insistence.


	32. Fallout 3 companions comfort Lone Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> I just had to put my not even eight week old puppy down. Mind doing literally anything comforting? Probably vague on what the reason for the comforting is, in case anyone else is feeling down. Preferably with companions from 3 and maybe Gob and Nova, if that's alright. Thanks for any consideration.
> 
> (I literally dropped everything I was doing to write this, I’m so sorry to hear about that, that’s really terrible. If you need anything else, please please message me! I might not be the best in a crisis, I deflect a lot of yucky emotions with humor, but I will lend an ear and hopefully make you feel a little better. I love you all and it kills me to think terrible things are happening in your lives. Jericho is excluded because he’s a straight up asshole)

Gob- He looks between the kid and the back room, where he knows Moriarty is counting caps. He sees the tears forming in 101’s eyes as he nervously wrings cloth around a glass, chewing on the inside of his lip, debating what he should do. Until he finally puts it down and reaches out to fold a hand over theirs. It’s perhaps more brash than anything he’s done, and it surprises them enough they jump slightly and almost pull their hand away from his. He squeezes gently until they relax again and stare up at him with red rimmed eyes. “It’s gonna be okay, kid,” he says softly, “Maybe not today, or even tomorrow but… it’ll be okay again.” He grabs a cold Nuka-Cola from under the bar and slides it towards them. He refuses any payment they try to offer.

Nova- She settles into the seat next to 101 in the back of the bar. It’s far secluded from the crowd, which was likely their intention, but she isn’t above invading their space when it’s clear they need someone to be near them. She takes a long drag of her cigarette and blows the smoke away from them, before settling her gaze back on the Vault dweller. Her painted lips pull into a small smile. “However hard it gets, there’s a place for you here.” She forces herself to bring her eyes up from their shoulder to their face. “Won’t let Moriarty run you off either. You need me or Gob or anyone… you come straight here, alright? Door’s always open for you.” Before she left, she took them by the cheek and kissed them against their temple, and wet her thumb with her tongue to wipe the lipstick smudge off their skin.

Butch- Five, ten; hell, even two years before, he would have made fun of Lone for getting upset about anything. But there’s no point to it now, and honestly, he’s a little scared of alienating the only person he’s got to watch his back who he can truly trust. So when he sees the way they’re hunched over at the edge of camp, he settles himself on the rock behind them. He tastes a fistful of hair and begins brushing through the clumps of dirt and dried blood with a pocket comb. They meekly attempt to protest, but he keeps a firm hold of them as he works. “Just hold still.” He brushes it away from their face so they have nothing to hide behind, and gathers it up with a hair tie. “You know I’ve got your back, yeah?” They try to turn their head and look at him, only for him to tug a little roughly on a clump of hair and force them forward again. “Tunnel Snakes always lookin’ out for each other. So if someone messes with you, they mess with me… And if somethin’ hurtin’ you, it’s hurtin’ me too. You need a little help carrying somethin’, you let me shoulder the weight with you. Understand?” They nod as he finishes up and slips down to sit beside them. “You’re not in this alone. Not anymore. We’re Tunnel Snakes.”

Charon- Something is bothering them, though he isn’t quite sure he grasps what that something is. It is undeniably something though. He approaches them from behind, as their shoulders are pinned to their ears and their stance is tense. He folds his arms across his chest and stops at their side. “Hey.” They glance at him a little warily. He hesitates a moment before awkwardly placing a hand on their shoulder. He doesn’t say much. He’s not sure what he could say. He’s not great at giving condolences and he sure as hell isn’t a very good shoulder to cry on. The best he can do is assure them that they’ve got someone by their side. He glances at them sidelong, and sees already the stark expression has softened. They lace a hand over his and it stays there for a few minutes before he’s released, and the heaviness he could feel weighing them down before has lifted somewhat.

Clover- If she’s learned anything from her years with Eulogy, it’s the near psychic sense for discerning people’s emotions. It was a necessity with him after all. She had to know how he felt before even he did, if she wanted to avoid his anger. She wraps her arms around their waist the moment she feels the unease, and pulls them onto a nearby sofa. She runs her fingers across their scalp and hums quietly, deep in her throat. She draws slow circles against their skin as she holds them against her. She doesn’t speak until they’re ready, and she won’t push hollow commiserations on them. Lone doesn’t seem too quick to launch into a heart to heart either. The two simply lay in the quiet of their room, silent but for Clover’s soft, slightly off key humming.

Fawkes- He sits beside the campfire with a book tucked in his lap, and offers no resistance when Lone leans up against his side, their head pressed to his arm and their body curled up beside his. The tome he reads aloud from is old, dating well before the war, and is so fragile, his giant fingers nearly shred it as he leafs through the pages. But it was Lone’s request, and he obliges. It alleviates the ache in their heart, or so he hopes. He reads until he feels them slump further against his side, and even then, he arranges them so they can use his lap as a pillow, and continues reading as the fire crackles itself into smoldering embers.

Sarge- As always, his words of comfort are a little loud and a little harsh. But Lone supposes there’s some comfort in having someone care enough to yell at them. “We all got sad times in our life soldier! But the key to living is pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and ya keep going! Give me a hoorah!” Lone smirks at him and offers him a half-hearted “Hoorah.” “I don’t think I heard you, soldier!” “Hoorah!” He hovers a little closer and pokes them in the shoulder, ordering, “Again!” “Hoorah!” “That’s the spirit! Now let’s go kill some commies! If that doesn’t get you out of the dumps, nothing will.”

Dogmeat- He sticks to 101 like velcro, barely a step behind wherever they moved in the house. He can obviously tell something is wrong, and although his skills to uplift them were somewhat limited, he was going to try never the less. He sits on the couch next to them, head in their lap, pensively lapping at the tips of their fingers with his warm tongue, nosing their hand until it rests between his ears. The only time he leaves their side is to go get his favorite toy and deposit it next to them before curling back up against them. It’s all he really has to give, but he’ll give anything to please them.


	33. Fallout 4 companions react to Shaun being killed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Could you do the companions react to a settler killing Shaun because he's a sinth
> 
> (Fuckign owie. Just a warning to people that this is might be a little graphic for some of your tastes. Strong is excluded because he might… like… try to eat him or something, he’s not the most sensitive person)

They all hear the single gunshot pop off in the middle of Sanctuary, yet it is not accompanied by the usual whir of turrets and shouting that hails a raider or Super Mutant attack, and it dies after the one loud crack. Everyone abandons their tasks, picks up their weapons, ready for a fight. The guards spot nothing, but their eyes are on the horizon outside of the settlement. It’s only when they look back that they see the small form laid in the street, and the trembling man standing over them. He backs away from the growing crowd that begins to surround him, rounds on the horrified faces of the other residents of Sanctuary. He gestures to the child at his feet, his fingers still clutching his weapon, even as his hands shook.

“It was one of them! One of those fucking synths!” He’s breathlessly panting, and clearly as scared as any of them. “We weren’t really just going to let it stay here? After everything they’ve done? It could have turned on us at any moment!” He turns, hoping for some validation from the crowd, some expression that said at least one of them agreed. No one did.

Nick- He grabs the settler by the shirt collar and shoves him hard. “Get the hell away from him.” His voice is like steel, the settler stumbles back. Nick kneels next to Shaun’s still body, but knows instantly there’s nothing he can do for him. The coward had buried a single slug in the back of his head. His eyes are wide and unfocused. He’s seen a lot in his years as a detective, both as a synth and his memories of the old Nick Valentine, yet few things can prepare a man for the sight of a round, youthful face -one you know hasn’t even had a chance to do wrong- empty and speckled with blood. Even worse when that face resembles his partner so much. He slips out of his jacket and covers the boy with it; Shaun is still small enough that Nick’s trench completely engulfs him. There’s a deep pit in the stomach he doesn’t even have as his hand lingers on the outline of his shoulder. “Someone get a hold of Sole,” he croaks.

Preston- He hears the settler’s words and knows instantly who is laying in the middle of the crowd. “No… No, no, no!” He abandons his laser musket on the side of the road and pushes through the people gathered, only to stop dead when his eyes land on Shaun. It’s like a sucker punch to the gut. He hoped… after Quincy, after seeing Jun cradling Kyle’s body, he would never again have to see a child pierced by bullets. He vowed to protect the people under his wing. His legs go out on him and he’s sat on his heels, too stunned to even breathe. Minutes pass in total silence. Many of the other settlers can no longer stand to watch, and splinter off to spare themselves the sight. Several of them grab the assailant by his arms and haul him away. Eventually, when he can will his limbs to move, Preston balls a fist around the back of Shaun’s blood stained shirt. His limp body offers no resistance when Preston drags him towards himself, and heaves him up to wrap his arms around him. He buries his face against Shaun’s shoulder. The weight of his failure presses hard against his throat, until he chokes out a sob, and his tears soak into Shaun’s clothes and clammy skin.

MacCready- He levels his rifle between the settler’s eyes the moment he arrives on the gruesome scene. He doesn’t ask what happened, he wants no justifications, and he’ll accept no excuse. There is no excuse. His eyes break away from the terrified settler’s gaze only a moment to glance down at the pool of blood seeping into the cracks in the pavement, he can’t yet bring himself to look at Shaun directly. He knows he’ll be sick if he does. But when he brings his gaze up, it catches on another child in the crowd. Their parents are keeping her from seeing the body for herself, but she’s staring up at him with nothing short of terror written on her face. No one would blame him if he put this piece of shit in the ground. But he can’t. He lowers his gun, unable to bring himself to look at them again. “Will someone… just get him out of here,” he snaps. A few settlers oblige and drag him away none too gently. MacCready kneels and scoops Shaun up, removing his hat to cover the hole in the back of his head so no one has to see. He looks so much like Duncan with that hat tipped over his eyes.

He orders another settler to send someone to get Sole, and brings the little boy into the house he had been running around just that morning. He lays him on the kitchen table. He’s too numb to really cry. It’s all too unreal, too overwhelming, and all he feels is the ball of lead rattling around his chest. He should have killed the son of a bitch. It takes hours for word to reach Sole, and even more for them to make it back to Sanctuary, and all the while MacCready sits on the edge of the table, brushing his fingers through Shaun’s hair, until they no longer come away sticky with blood and the bright red hue turns to a dry, cracking brown.

Hancock- He snatches the settler by the shirt before they can spit one more vitriolic word, and in a movement almost too quick to catch, unsheathes the hunting knife from his belt to bury it under the guy’s ribcage, all the way to the hilt. He rips it out, stabs it back in a few more times, just to make damn sure he hits a kidney, piercing any vital organ he can hit in that small area. He’s done a lot more over a lot less. He pushes them and they fall with a few startled shrieks from the crowd. No one has the courage to confront him though. Maybe out of fear, maybe because they knew it had to be done, but they all back away in silence. He slips the knife back in its sheathe, and for a long while he can do nothing more than stare at Shaun. He tries placing two fingers gently against his carotid artery, but feels nothing. He’s motionless, Hancock knows any shudder of movement he might see is likely just a trick of his own mind. He folds his hand over the kid’s cheek. He blinked away tears, grinding the heel of his palm against the corner of his eye. “Shit, kid… I’m so sorry…” He deserved better than this. Than to just be another casualty of the Commonwealth. And Sole deserved to have some piece of their old life. As he looked back at the second body sprawled on the ground, he knew the only person that got what they deserved was the one he had just gutted.

Piper- Her hands clamp around her mouth as absolute horror flashes across her face. “Oh…o-oh God… Shaun, oh God…” She’s always prided herself on never shying away from the ugly truth of the world. That’s what she’s built her paper on. But this isn’t just an ugly truth, this is the depravity of the Commonwealth, the depths people sunk to when scared, and an ugliness even she can’t stand to look directly at. She tries, she feels like a coward if she doesn’t, but one look at Shaun’s thousand yard stare and she has to find a nearby bush to dry heave into. It’s too much, he’s so close to Nat’s age, he’s just a kid. He’s just a kid… She’d have to write an obituary for a kid. She’d have to tell Sole someone they took charge of, and had always treated kindly, repaid them by shooting their son in the head. She sees the quick glimpse she got whenever she closes her eyes, and doesn’t stop trembling for what feels like, and could very well be, hours.

Curie- She elbows her way through the crowd and drops to the ground. She gingerly rolls him onto his back and fumbles for a stim, though in the back of her head she understands how useless this is. Lifesaving measures would be wasted at this point. At point blank range, a gun fired into a child’s head, especially this young… the probability of him surviving is null. But an impulsive force says she has to try anyway. One of the downsides of becoming more human was her irrational feeling to fight against things she knew she had no hope of changing. The onlookers are deathly still, save for the few praying or clinging to one another. The settler who fired the gun says something she doesn’t hear, doesn’t want to hear. When she empties two Stimpaks into him and she knows some of the damage is being reversed, she’s already out of breath. Never the less, she tips his head back and forces air into his lungs. She doesn’t even know if synth physiology can be repaired like this, but she tries. She rests a hand over Shaun’s chest and begins compressing his heart, even as a nagging voice tells her her efforts are futile. “He has done nothing to you,” she finds herself whispering hoarsely, “Why would you do this? He is only a child…” “He’s a synth,” the settler spits back. “He is a child!” She’s never snapped at someone like that in her life. It leaves her heart fluttering and her arms weak, though that might be the energy she’s expending on Shaun. There’s sweat on her brow, dripping and stinging her eyes, and it’s been nearly an hour trying to resuscitate him when someone finally forces her to stop.

Danse- After so many years seeing synths as nothing but subhuman abominations, he is almost incredulous of the bolt of sorrow he feels ripping through his chest. He knows the truth about Shaun, that he’s a copy, yet he has always tried to treat him as Sole treated Danse after finding out the truth about him. He can’t deny that though the blood might have been synthetic, Shaun bled just the same as any man, woman, or child he has seen littering battlefields. And really, he doesn’t see a synth child where he might have once. He just sees the little boy that marveled at his power armor and pestered for Danse to teach him to shoot. And he sees the cowardly man that has stolen him away. His hands ball into fists at his side. He grinds through his teeth to the settlers put on guard duty, “I want this man detained… Don’t let him out of your sight.” It would be Sole’s decision what to do with him. Even if Danse feels the desire to usurp the privilege of executing him himself. He urges the others to give the kid space and collects him in a sheet one of the settlers have provided, before taking him inside the house Sole had shared with their spouse and the real Shaun before the war. It’s in shambles, but for awhile, with Shaun back, it’s been a family home again. Now, with only Danse and a stained sheet in the vague shape of a child, it’s never felt more like an empty shell of what had once been something beautiful.

Deacon- He understands the hatred. He’s felt the fear. He understands, and yet he doesn’t. How could anyone look at Shaun and see something so vile it needed to be destroyed? It might have been something he’s felt before, but now it’s a strange and alien thing to him. He’s the biggest hypocrite in the wastes to say this man deserves no second chance, after everything he’s done in his life, all the synths he’s hurt. But damn if he doesn’t feel like ripping this chickenshit man apart with his bare hands. Never, even in the old days, had he ever hurt a child, or even conceived of harming one, synth or otherwise. “Shaun… buddy,” he whispers upon seeing the kid he’d told so many outlandish bedtime stories, laying in a pool of blood. He has no clever one-liner or witty quip. He doesn’t even know the words that can express the deep pit he feels at his core. Maybe there are none. He only feels the tears when there’s a river of them streaking down his face, and rakes a hand up to push his sunglasses up and discards them. He feels light headed, ready to collapse, and his breathing is frenetic and uneven. It’s too familiar. It’s like seeing Barbara all over again. It’s cowardly and he hates himself for it, but he turns on his heel and leaves before anyone even realizes he’s moved, leaving nothing but the cracked pair of black lenses. He can’t look any longer.

Cait- Her heartbeat spikes the moment she hears the gunshot, and she knows something is wrong. She isn’t prepared for a fight, she gets the unshakeable sense there won’t be one, and sprints to the source of the noise. She stops just long enough to see Shaun, and the settler with the gun still in his hand. She might be stunned for a moment, but it ends quickly. “You… you son of a bitch!” She throws herself at him, he hasn’t the chance to defend himself before she’s busted his lip and bloodied his nose. She doesn’t stop there. His gun is left abandoned at his side and he scrambles to try and pull her off him, to no avail. She doesn’t stop until she’s panting, painted red, and the settler is near unrecognizable.

X6-88- He gives in to a rare sense of vengeance and senseless violence by turning his plasma rifle on the settler the second he opens his mouth to defend himself. They go down after one shot with a pained moan, and X6 steps forward to send another bolt of plasma into his torso, the side of his neck, firing off round after round, scattershot compared to his usual precision. He feels the need to keep firing long after the settler has gone still. He doesn’t stop until the trigger clicks uselessly, the battery drained. Slowly, he lets it fall, and come to rest at his side. He wants to do something more. There’s that fight or flight sense, that push of adrenaline, it urges him to keep going, but the settler is nothing more than a corpse now. He has been for at least a minute. There are scorch marks burned in his chest, up his neck, and scarring his face. As irrational as it is, he experiences something he had always been told was a glitch in his subroutines; he feels angry. Sole had already lost Shaun once, a man X6 had respected greatly, and this human had senselessly destroyed Sole’s son a second time. He doesn’t wait for anyone to speak out against his attack, he grabs Shaun and relays to the Institute.

Dogmeat- He whines softly as he pads closer to the little boy, seemingly ignored by the majority of the other settlers. When they come anywhere near him, Dogmeat snaps his jaws at them and growls, standing so Shaun is half-hidden beneath him. Anyone that wanted to so much as touch him would have to go through the snarling German Shepard first. He makes it clear he likely won’t budge for anyone but his master. The settlers back away after awhile, and there is not much to do but wait for Dogmeat to either allow them near Shaun or for Sole to arrive. In the mean time, Dogmeat tries to rouse the child that had been his companion. He nudges Shaun’s head with his nose, lapping gently at the blood on his cheek, and whimpers when he doesn’t awaken. He curls up against him, but is no less wary of anyone that attempts to so much as touch him. Anyone that comes within ten feet receives a cautioning growl.

Codsworth- “Shaun…?” The quiver in the Mr Handy’s voice could make anyone forget that he was only a robot. Even with thrusters keeping him up, he seems to wobble, uneasy on his ‘feet’. One of his arms reaches out to touch Shaun, twitches back, hesitantly reaches out again. It’s like seeing the frozen corpse of his patron all over again, any hope that he and Sole could have some semblance of a normal life in the Wasteland dashed, laying dead with the heart-breakingly small body curled up on the ground. Once they found him, things should have been better. They were supposed to be a proper family again. Surely this couldn’t be how things ended for the family that had already been through so much? “Shaun… Oh, please, master Shaun… this isn’t a very funny game! Ah ha… ha… Sole would be so… so infuriated with me if they knew you were getting your… clothes dirty…” Short of actual tears springing up in any of his three eye stocks, he sounds ready to break down sobbing, which he is. The lenses in his eyes dilate and shrink like a confused creature blinking, perplexed. “Come now, Shaun… please get up…”


	34. Fallout 4 companions do the sex (parody)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> FO4 companions do the sex to SoSu
> 
> (It’s a holiday so just this once, anon who totally isn’t me, I will do something a little graphic)

Prestone- “Yeah you are doing me a sex,” Preston cries and puts his thing in Sole’s thigh, “Ooooh I’m gonna complete.” And he does and it goes everywhere and he apologizes a lot because he’s a nice guy. Then he tells them another settlement needs their halp AYY LMFAO XD HILARIOUS AND ORIGINAL

Neck- Nick makes a detachable dick but loses it halfway through and is like “Oh no kid where’d my dick go.” but then realizes he maybe doesn’t want it back after where it’s been.

Macreedy- “What is sex, I never matured past 12,” he says and it reminds him of something from Little Lamplight because he’s never had life experiences outside of once being a child.

Tiny Dancer- “ad victorium, Ad victorium, Ad Victorium, AD VIctorium AD VICTORIUM, AD VIC-”

Kevin Bacon- With his cool guy sunglasses still on, “Haha, we are doing the sex. Or are we? Sike, I was just lying.” And then Sole remembers Deacon has been dead for twenty years.

Handcock- “420 smoke em,” he says and takes a bunch of weeds and downs three bottles of booze and doesn’t have whiskey dick in the slightest and does a good sex.

Pooper- “Blue, da ba de daba di, I got a headache Blue, not tonight Blue.” And Sole walks away from Piper blue.

Kit Kait- She punches Sole right in the butt and Sole is like “Yeah keep punching my butt” and Cait is like “WHERED YER HOIDE MAH LUCKY CHYARMS”

Cogsworth- “Sir/mum, I am equipped to provide you maximum pleasure,” he says as he goes to pull out his dildo attachment but whoops its the chainsaw now he’s on the run from the law.

Carie- Curie doesn’t know how do sex but Sole teaches her because they are her Daddy and definitely not in the creepy way. Afterwards she does a science.

X9-69- “No. I am stern. I do not do the sex.” “Please,” Sole pleads, pleadingly, with a plea in their eyes. “Fine for you I will do the sex.” He bottoms.

Strongboy- “STRONG HAS FINALLY FOUND MILK OF HUMAN KINDNESS”

Dogemeat- He goes BORK BORK and humps their leg.


	35. Fallout New Vegas companions+Benny react to Courier being tortured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> ok since I'm full of pain and love for New Vegas can you do romanced New Vegas companions (plus Benny) reacting to the Courier being tortured in front of them?
> 
> (This was a popular request, you monsters. Most non-humans excluded cause it’s only romanced characters)

Benny- He has his own scars from the Legion after his plans failed on account of his obsession with his hair- to him, they’re just another set of scars. There was no real extraordinary story behind them as far as he was concerned. The Mojave dished out a lot of scars. But seeing Six now, bound, lashed across the back and ribs, he feels his own wounds, long healed, begin to peel open as if they were fresh. He bleeds with them without actually bleeding. He knows the pain. And knowing the person he cares for- the only person in this fucking wasteland he trusts- is hurting like that, it stirs up an old anger in him he can never drown, no matter how much cheap cologne he submerges it in. The kind of anger that makes his breathing heavy and his mind blank. The kind these Legion skirts have never been witness to. He can dress up like the refined businessman, play house, but at the end of the day, he’s a tribal. And when he’s out of bondage, these boys are going to see just what Benny Gecko is capable of when pushed past his New Vegas persona. No one fucks with Six; not the Legion, not the NCR, not House. And if he couldn’t kill them, there’s no force in the universe that can.

Arcade- His bedside manner is terrible. Really, really terrible. He can give no comfort, he’s not warm, or soothing, he has no soft, patronizing voice with which to give old platitudes. He wants to comfort them. He wants to do something more than be helpless and watch. Six arches back with the pain, struggles against their binds, and that’s all he can do. Watch. He tries to put Six’s pain into physician’s terms, to have some sense of control, make a plan for what he can do to help them. He makes a mental map of the injuries. The assailants strike them in the ribs- ribs eight to ten, false ribs, connected to the seventh rib by costal cartilage, could have damaged the cartilage. Six’s breath hitches, they gulp and gasp, hindered by the pain, they’re in pain and there’s nothing he can do. Not in this moment. Arcade draws his knees up to his chest, he wants to look away, but to own surprise, he keeps his eyes locked. Costal cartilage fracture. They could fix that. Another blow in the same spot and he hears something crack. Fractured or broken rib… they could fix that. They struggle to gulp in air: maybe a punctured lung, they could fix that. As long as they were still alive, all of this could be fixed. He hopes if he repeats this mantra to himself enough times, it might somehow come true; This can be fixed. Once he comes up with a way to get them out, all of this can be fixed.

Boone- The one solace he took in Carla’s death was that she didn’t suffer. He made sure she wouldn’t suffer. This time, there’s no gun in his hands, no easy way out for either of them. He’s not even really sure if he could do it again. Six has done so much to redeem him, even when he believed he was not worthy of redemption. They saw something in him that maybe even Carla didn’t see. To sit now, helpless, as they’re lashed and their anguished cries echo off the concrete walls in a heart-shattering din, he knows he couldn’t do it again, even if he had the means. He can’t, and he won’t. Maybe, in some awful way, this is his second chance. He’d been given a lot of those since he met the Courier. He slowly wears the skin of his wrists against his binds, numb to the pain of the rope tearing into him, and keeps his head low, biding his time. Outnumbered three to one, he might not be able to bring them all down, but he sure as hell is going to try. He and Six had faced worse odds at Bitter Springs. He knows neither one of them will let this be the end.

Veronica- She’d hardly call herself “sheltered”, though the Brotherhood had mostly raised her away from the true grime of the Mojave. She’d lost people, sure, to many different circumstances. But she’d never had someone she cared about hurt like this. For senseless reasons no less. These people bruised and bled the one she loved simply to be cruel, and her mind reeled, reaching for an answer to why. Why would someone do this? She tries to blink away the tears blurring her vision. The last thing she wants to do is break and weep like a pathetic little girl, but that’s how she feels. Pathetic and weak. She can’t hold back or even muffle the sob that bubbles up when Six screams, the sound piercing through her chest. Part of her is screaming to stand up and do something, but it’s like being shackled with heavy lead weights around her arms and legs. “I don’t know what to do!” Her voice is hoarse and alien sounding, belonging to some pitiful person she’s never had the displeasure of meeting. “Just tell us what you want from us!” The low chuckles that make their rounds through the room are somehow loud enough to be heard under Six’s angony, and they cut almost as deep.

Cass- Every curse in her vocabulary and every bit of vitriol she can muster, she flings at their captors. The first raider to come near her with a gag to silence her leaves with eight fingers. Her mouth tastes like blood, not for the first time. She spits a glob of it on the floor and locks eyes with the raider guarding her, keeping her from Six, who hangs from shackles across the room. She can’t look at them too long. The way their body is so limp, all of their weight being held up by chains, she thinks she’ll hear their arm dislocate at any moment. Not that that would be the worst thing to happen to them in this shithole. The ground at their feet is stained with blood. She can’t pay it mind. When they were free, maybe she would cry. Maybe she would hug Six tightly and spill her guts about how she feels for them. But that all could wait. She lobs more insults at the guard, who turns a deaf ear on everything she had to say. Just as well. Having grown tired of her constant shouting, none of them hear her wrist break when she smashes it against the floor. She’d been screaming so much, they hardly blinked when it was born of pain and not anger. Just as well. It gave her a chance to free one of her hands and grab a gun before anyone could stop her. There was no shot in the Wastes quicker than Rose of Sharon Cassidy, and no sorrier sons of bitches than the ones that dared hurt the person she loved.

Raul- Had he had his fair share of torture? Sure. He’d been locked up with Super Mutants for awhile after all. Had he been in worse spots? Not that he could remember. He can’t tell if it’s because this truly is a bad situation, or because it’s Six that’s being hurt, not him. He’d been hurt in his life. He could take it, he had the scars and nightmares to prove he could handle whatever the world threw at him. He knew Six probably could too. Still, seeing them this way, he couldn’t help but doubt they could make it out of this. That they could ever be “okay” again after all this. Of course, the only way to test that theory would be to get them out in the first place. Six couldn’t do much. They’d already lost so much blood, and… he squeezed his eyes shut, even though the image played on the insides of his eyelids like a broken holotape. It opened up old wounds. Reminded him of Rafaela’s tiny body in that metro tunnel. Made him wonder if Claudia screamed like that when Dave’s men took her. His fists clenched. He’d made mistakes and lost people he loved before. He wouldn’t stand by and let it happen again. It’s a bad situation, but if he has to sell his soul to get Six out of it, he’ll sign on the devil’s dotted line.


	36. Fallout New Vegas companions torture aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> i was wondering if we could get the follow-up to the new vegas companions and benny watching the courier get tortured? like the after care. it made me tear up a bit lol it was very well written
> 
>  
> 
> (I’ll be honest, hearing people actually tear up reading my writing is,,a good, good feeling I’m sorry I revel in your pain like this but I do it’s incredible to make people feel things and it makes my day to get these messages.)

Benny- He knows all the old remedies. It’s been awhile since he’s had to use them, been awhile since he ever cared enough to use them. Stimpacks could fuse bone together wrong, stuff worked too fast for its own good, but broc flower and honey mesquite pods had been the cure-all in his tribe since he was just an ankle biter. It was the slow route, but slow caution wasn’t always the wrong approach. That he could focus on crushing and mixing herbs instead of watching Six shiver on his sheets, that was just a plus. They looked so vulnerable. Smaller than he’d ever seen them, which included when he stood above their grave that night in Goodsprings, when they were arguably even more vulnerable in his presence. This was different. They shudder when he runs the cool mixture over their still raw wounds, hands white-knuckled against the sheets, and he smooths a square of fresh cloth over the biggest gash in their back to soak up the blood which had stained his sheets. “You know, I don’t just let anyone bleed all over my bed, doll. Aren’t you lucky?” They very nearly laugh. “Don’t feel too lucky.” He leans over to kiss the nape of their neck. “You’ve got me. You’re the luckiest gambler in Vegas.”

Boone- To call what he does to their captors “righteous retribution” would be doing it a disservice. This was a biblical ass kicking. He didn’t need to be a mile away from his target to get the job done. Once the dust has settled, he spends the next three days keeping an eye on Six. Their injuries aren’t exactly life threatening- painful looking as all hell, but nothing they haven’t suffered before, or suffered worse. Still, he doesn’t sleep. Sleep had never been a friend to him, that was true, his head was too full, his thoughts always too loud, and his occasional good nights of rest were short lived and far between. But he doesn’t sleep, period. His eyes ache, he feels like he hasn’t even closed them in seventy-two hours, which isn’t far from the truth. His sunglasses aren’t just an accessory or a shield from the bright Mojave sun. The world is blinding without them. If he sleeps, if something happens to them again, if Six falls asleep and doesn’t wake up, if he isn’t there when they need him, if, if, if. He squeezes his eyes shut for the briefest moment until the building tide which settles to overwhelm him subsides. He opens them again, his gaze settling on Six’s back across the campfire. Slips of angry red wounds and ugly bruises peek out of the bandages wrapped tightly around their torso. His fingers clutch tighter to the gun in his lap. He won’t be caught off-guard again.

Arcade- His first panic attack had struck him when he was a teenager. He’d been stabbed by a strung out Freesider once, and somehow panic attacks were still the worse thing he experienced, if only because he knew how fundamentally irrational and useless they were. It wasn’t a proper fight or flight response, it accomplished nothing, and only left him shivering and breathing hard for ten minutes, his heart hammering so achingly hard against his ribs he could feel his entire body pulsate. He at least gave Six the courtesy of getting them clear of danger and treating their wounds at the nearest settlement before he even allowed himself to be swallowed up. He has to steady himself against a wall to keep from falling off the earth, wraps up his hands in the fabric of his coat to stop them from trembling so hard. He nearly lost them. Six could have died and he- The thought strikes him but he doesn’t give it a foothold in his mind. He waits it out. He shakes and digs his nails into his coat until its over and he can breathe again. He’s steadier now than he’s ever been. He has to be for them. He rakes a hand through his hair as he heads back inside to tend to the courier’s injuries with a more critical eye now that he can think clearly.

Veronica- She cries as she holds their bloodied face in her hands, but not for long. Crying never did her any good, no matter the cause, and she has no time for it. Instead, she focuses on Six. Her anchor. She needs them and they need her, now more than ever. After they’re bandaged and full of Med-X and stims, she lays her head on their chest to listen to the steady beat of their heart. Her body is tense, her neck aches because she isn’t truly leaning her weight on them, afraid to impede their breathing too much, but she keeps her ear pressed to their bare chest for hours while they sleep. It’s all she can really think to do, it keeps her grounded. Stops her from spiraling out thinking too much about what happened back there. When it feels like she can actually sleep, she does so curled up against their side, where she stays for most of the rest of their recovery.

Cass- She should have paid more attention to that Follower drivel they tried teaching her. She could patch up small cuts and fashion tourniquets, but Six is hurt. Really, really hurt, in ways she can’t begin to treat. The doc in the next town tells her the courier was lucky to be alive. They try treating her along with them- she just gives them dirty looks until they get the message. Six takes priority. She’s not much of a caregiver. She knows she can’t do anything to help, and so leaves the doctors to their work. Cass fills the time with- what else?- drinking. It means she doesn’t have to look at the mess of lacerations criss crossing over Six’s body. She drinks and she thinks and mostly drinks. She thinks a little, disproportionate compared to the drinking. She’d actually prayed back there. It was brief, but there. If God willed it, if they made it out, she would tell them how she felt, how she really felt. She’d said that in her head. She glances up at the clouds and rolls her shoulders in a shrug. “Heat of the moment kind of thing. All that was…Sure you get those all the time.” She feels an uncomfortable itch creep up her neck and hastily scratched at it. Her nails dig deeper and deeper until she can no longer clamp down on an irritated growl and snaps up at the sky. “Fine! Shit! When they wake up, god da-ngh…Fuck.” She swipes up a pair of glasses and a bottle and sets both on the table by Six’s bed. She’s going to need a few shots of courage if she wants any hope of getting this little…confession out when they wake up.

Raul- He knows how to fix lots of things; he’s had centuries of practice after all. But he’s not any kind of doctor. Not one that can heal Six’s body or knows how to navigate the roadmap of their brain, and truthfully, he couldn’t remember the last time he actually had to comfort someone like this. He isn’t sure what to do, what he even can do for them. Six is safe, that’s some relief, but they look so small like this. Laid up, skin ashen from blood loss, tossing and turning very slowly, unable to sleep and unable to move too quickly. They pretend to be asleep when he crosses to their bedside, maybe hoping he would leave them alone to suffer in solitude. He runs his fingers across their scalp, one of the only places he can even touch them without causing them more pain. His voice is still his voice, cracked and rough and hardly the most soothing thing to listen to, but it softens a bit when he hums. It sounded better when he sang it to his little sister as a child, and it paled in comparison to his mother’s voice, yet he hums nevertheless. He’d long forgotten the words- this song wasn’t one that survived the bombs. He might even be the only person alive to remember it. He hums until Six’s breathing evens out, and this time, they well and truly fall asleep. It isn’t much, but it’s all he can do. For Six, he does all he can.


	37. Fallout New Vegas react to Courier forgetting them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fallout NV companions reactions to to Courier slowly starting to forget them? Maybe their bullet-to-the-brain incident starts to catch up to them.
> 
> (no offence but like??? How could you??)

It’s small things at first. Short lapses, black spots in their memory, struggling to recall something recent. It’s small until it’s not. Those forgotten nights turns to days, to weeks, and the blank spots stretch a little further each time, and they grow frustrated when they reach for a name in the back of their mind and pull back nothing but static. Then they forget why they were frustrated, and they’re left with the unshakable sense that they were missing something. Something important.

Things become fuzzy. Names escape them. Faces blur. And suddenly, they’re standing before someone they’ve never met.

Boone- He is perhaps the most patient with them. No matter how many times he has to remind them of where they were going or what they doing, he never grows short with them, and he never lets on to the hurt he feels to simply sit by and watch them begin to fade around the edges. He leaves notes on their things; that their pistol has been jamming lately, that they needed to find plasma cartridges for their rifle, that the brahmin steaks were going to go bad if they didn’t eat them soon. He keeps closer than ever so when an inevitable bout of dizziness overtakes them, he is there to steady them. He reminds them to eat at least twice a day and steers them in the right direction if they begin venturing towards an area they’d discovered was dangerous. And through it all, he never stops writing things down. That had been difficult for them lately, so he begins keeping a journal for them- a journal of them. He jots down snippets of conversations, what they’d done that day, what they needed to do, where they’d been, where they were going, in his shorthand, chicken-scratch handwriting. When the day finally came that he’d been dreading, when they look at him like a stranger, he shows them the notebook. He shows them it again when they wake up a few days later with no clue who he is again. He does it as many times as it takes, and he keeps doing it, even on the days when it doesn’t seem like it’s enough. When they react angrily or with paranoia or demand to know why he’s following them. He watches out for them, as he has always done.

Arcade- He sees the symptoms of brain damage, had been seeing it for awhile now, and he was helpless to halt or even slow the deterioration of their mind. It was something he’d worried about absently with the Remnants- that one day he would swing by Daisy’s and she wouldn’t remember him. He didn’t for a second think it would be Six he had to worry about. He hadn’t cried for anyone in a long time, not since his mother. But the first time he sees them struggle to remember his name, he spends a good chunk of the following night pouring over medical textbooks and fighting to keep his bouts of crying mercifully short. By the time morning rolls around, his eyes are aching, almost too puffy to focus on the small print of weathered books. Some of them he’d torn pages out in his frustration. A week later, they’re in the middle of a conversation when Six grows quiet, staring through him, and his heart plummets. He’d been trying to prepare himself for this, but when they finally focus back on him with the most lost look on their face, it takes a lot to stop himself from breaking down. He pushes off his glasses to wipe at his eyes when they ask, “Where am I?” He takes a deep breath to steady himself and tells them in a clinical tone, the closest ‘bedside manner’ voice he can muster under the circumstances. There is no spark behind their eyes, nothing that hints they know what he’s talking about. When they start to move away, he darts forward to clutch their wrist. “Look, I’m a doctor, alright? Or… the closest thing to it, I guess. And I can- I’ve been trying…” He finds the words stick in his throat. Because he knows, even in the Old World, there was no definite ‘cure’ for memory loss. There were ways to hopefully prevent it, and even those were never guarantees. The most that could be done for patients with trauma induced amnesia was cross your fingers and hope for the best. Sometimes memories never came back. He squeezes them a little tighter. “I want to help you.”

Raul- He can’t fault them for being forgetful sometimes, lord knows he had his fair share of senior moments. He gently reminds them of something he told them the day before, and the day before that, until eventually he only bothers reminding them of the big things. The sinking feeling slowly pulls at him, until the day he claps a hand on their shoulder and they jump. “Boss?” Their is nothing in their eyes that suggests any sort of recognition. They look around, as though only just realizing where they were. He can’t help but recall the ghouls he’d seen turn feral, and the process was much the same for them. It’s not something he is unaccustomed to. It’s still a punch to the gut. But he moves slow, each word measured very carefully. His expression and voice never betray the lump in his throat. “You need a little help, boss?” “Who are you?” The question just twists the knife further. He swallows thickly. “Raul. You know me, somewhere in that thick skull of yours.” He had told them everything, things he hadn’t told a single living soul. They were the only person in the world that knew about Rafaela and Claudia, and in a strange way, it was like losing both of them all over again. They lived on in his memories, and he had shared those with Six. If they had forgotten them too, then that was worse than death. It’s almost selfish of him to frame it this way, considering Six has lost more of themselves than they have of him, but he does. “We’ll… I don’t know what we’ll do. You’re probably a little confused by all this but, just trust me, okay?” He offers his hand. They eye him scrupulously. “We’ll find someone to fix you. Someone has to be able to fix you.”

Cass- She responds mostly with irritation at first. Many of Six’s questions about what they were doing or where are met with “Fuck, I told you this five minutes ago!”, but as time passes and the cracks in their memory seem to widen, she’s more scared than anything. What had once simply annoyed her began to terrify her, and the nights she would have spent drinking or screwing around with Six turn to fretful hours while she wracks her brain over what could be done. One of these nights, which had faded into day by the time Cass even entertained the idea of going to sleep, they wake up and almost jolt when they see her across the fire from them. They address her like some stranger that had wandered into their camp in the night. “Who the hell are you?” She feels her stomach twist into knots. “It’s me.” Their brow furrows, they reach for some recollection, but can grasp none. She moves in closer. “It’s Cass, Six.” Nothing. She snatches up their shirt collar and pulls them in. “Six, it’s me,” she says, more forcefully. Still noting seems to come to mind, and the confusion on their face begins to melt to panic at the stranger gripping onto them. But she isn’t a stranger, not to them, of all people. “Will you just snap out of it? You know me! You know me better than anyone, god damn it!” They try to pull free but she catches them by both shoulders and shakes them, as if she could rattle free the memories stuck in some far recess of their head. “Don’t fucking do this, you can’t just-” She feels the tears at the back of her eyes, she tries to swallow them back, but they spill over despite her efforts. She lets Six go to wipe them away. “You can’t do this…” What the hell could she do? She didn’t sign up to be Six’s keeper, she had no idea how to take care of anyone but herself, and she had so far done a shit job of even that. They stand before her, confused, but still there, even though any rational person would have ran. They were always there. Before they can change their mind and bolt, she catches them by the arm and pulls them into a hug. They were there when she needed help- she had to be there too. For once.

Veronica- The gag gets old quick. The first few weeks of misplaced shells and walking in circles she chalks up to Six messing with her, then just them being out of it. Everyone had days, maybe weeks, where they just weren’t themselves. Come the headaches and nausea, she worries they’d contracted something- the head injury has never really caused them much impairment, so she thinks it must be something else. She hopes it’s something else. Then they slip up on her name like they never had before, and that hope was dashed. By the time they forget her, it’s too late for her to do much. She takes their face in her hands, even if it makes them squirm and does nothing to calm their paranoia at the stranger they’ve come face to face with. “Six, this isn’t funny,” she laughs, on the brink of tears. “This is really, really high up on the list of things you can’t joke about.” She knows it’s not a joke, she knew well before they looked through her like that, like she wasn’t there. She pushes back their hair, choking on her own words. “It’s Veronica, c'mon. Veronica? You know who I am, I know you do.” They shake free of her and step back. She only lets them out of her sight for a split second to snatch up her pack and roots around in it, moving forward when they move back, always keeping them close enough to grab. Feeling the soft, fine material folded up and hidden away at the bottom of her rucksack, she pulls free a dress. The honest to goodness dress she’d treasured too much to wear, the one she’d made them swear to bury her in if she died before them, only half joking. She pushes it into their arms. “You gotta remember this. Don’t you?” She lets out something between a sob and a chuckle. “It’s the nicest thing anyone has given me. All I did was- was mention it once and you went and got it for me. You… you remembered, you remember everything, you’re the only person who does that.” Her fingers clench around the fabric. “Please, Six.” She knows, deep down, that Christine has forgotten all bout her, off wherever she was. She couldn’t handle being forgotten by someone she cared about again.

Rex- He doesn’t quite understand what’s happening to the Courier, but he knows something is wrong, and sticks as closely to them as possible. He defends them all the more, he fights even harder, he does even more to please them, and he takes to sleeping against their back so he can feel their breathing through the night. Once, after standing oddly still for awhile, they look behind at him, and there’s a look in their eyes he isn’t used to. There’s a moment they seem apprehensive, so he wags his tail as he stares up at them. They smile and kneel, holding their hand out to him. “Hey there, bud.” He eagerly presses his head into their palm, appreciating the head scratches he receives from the gesture. “Aren’t you handsome?” They seem to be considering something. He can’t imagine what, but he waits expectantly, licking their wrist while they pet and ponder him. “Would you like to come with me?” Of course he would. He follows even when they leave him behind. Even when his presence startles them and they instinctively kick him away. Even when they fire off a round, missing him by a few inches, after he had come bounding up to them too quickly and they had assumed him feral. He would follow them anywhere. So he does, no matter what.

ED-E- No amount of blips or musical tones seem to please them, as they had before. Six pushes him away when he tries to nudge their shoulder, and they force him further away each day. Some days they welcome him in, and he’s so relieved they’ve forgiven him for whatever wrong-doing they perceived him guilty of; the next, he has to dodge the rocks being hurled at him as they shout for him to stop following. In the moments when they’re soft and themselves, he takes to recording them. “ED-E-, buddy. I don’t remember all these dents last tune up…what happened?” He plays the clips of them speaking as a friend and it stays their hand, but it leaves them confused, even scared to hear their words parroted by something they don’t remember. Once, it upsets them so terribly not being able to remember the audio logs ED-E has saved, they almost break into tears. After that, on the days they reacted with hostility, he decided it was better to let them buff out his new dents and scratches than to see them like that again.

Lily- Jimmy always reminds her to take her medication. On the road, it was sometimes hard to keep track of, so she trusted little Jimmy to help their grandmother in this regard. She hardly notices the days pass, and they haven’t said a word about it. She’s almost sure she’s slept a few times since the last dose she took, but if Jimmy hasn’t brought the matter up, then she concludes it isn’t medication time. Leo gets a little more insistent, a little louder, a little closer to the forefront of her mind. She finds herself getting angry at nothing, ripping apart enemies with more ferocity than usual. Her head is swimming and everything feels adrift on a cloud of ire she can’t understand the cause of, and Jimmy seems to sway where they stand. She calls them, “Jimmy?” and they whirl around so fast they collapse into the dirt. When their eyes rove up to meet her sunglasses, they blanch and begin to pull away, scrambling for their pack. “What are you doing? Is Gran’s angel being naughty?” She feels the buckshot pierce her clothes well before she feels it embed in her thick hide. It doesn’t hurt, but it makes the cloud grow thicker, and Leo is louder, and the blood runs quicker in her head. “That wasn’t very nice, was it?” The ku-chak of the shotgun pump is loud enough to make her ears ring, louder even than the shot itself, but not louder than Leo. He says they’re being bad. He says they need to be punished. The next word out of her mouth becomes a growl as another round goes off against her leg, and she captures them by the shoulder, slamming them back against the ground. “Naughty, naughty, naughty!” She slams them again, and again, and again, until her Jimmy is docile and quiet again.


	38. Fallout 4 companions find out Sole Survivor is a synth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Fo4 companions react to discovering that Sole has been a synth the whole time and didn't know it??? (p.s. I really love your writing and I think you should like write a book or something because I'd definitely read it and pay good money for it.)
> 
> (It’s funny you should mention that anon, because I actually am in the process of writing the second draft of a novel. It’s partially the reason I don’t post much these days; along with being a sad flake of a person, most of my free time is spent on rewriting the same paragraph fifteen times. I’ve mentioned the book before here, but if you enjoy my writing you can follow my newest side blog @toogaytowrite where I’ll be posting all the drabbles I write that I can’t find a home for as well as updates on the book and excerpts. If you just want fanfiction stuff you can check out my AO3 too/shameless plug
> 
> Codsworth is a plot hole in this kind of theory so he, Strong, and Dogmeat are excluded )

There’s the truth, in the black and white ink of the Institute’s documents. Their true name is a number and their memories are lines of coded heartbreak. None of it was even real. Somehow it makes sense- the first real, clear memory they have is of the day the bombs fell. If there was a life before that, their creators didn’t deem it necessary to the experiment. Sole is a synth. Manufactured. Inhuman. An research project to see how a synth would act under the outlandish parameters they’d set. Shaun, their spouse, their memories of their parents, their entire life, all fabrications. Holding the proof with shaking hands, they turn to their companion.

Hancock- He prides himself on being good with words, on always knowing what to say, whether or not it was exactly the ‘right’ thing to say. Very rarely, pre-ghoul or after, has John Hancock ever found himself at a loss for words. Yet here is. He had to hand it to the Institute- they really outdid themselves with Sole. They completely convinced him Sole was a real person. The moment that thought crosses his mind, he feels his stomach bottom out. What the hell was he thinking? Of course Sole is a real person. He built an entire town to shelter people that others saw as subhuman, and he had to scold himself for entertaining the idea, even for a moment, that they were anything less than an exemplary human being. More human than most of the people who would laud their humanity as a virtue. “Hey.” He tips their head up a little. “Look at the bright side- I ain’t gonna outlive you now, and you get to keep all of your skin. We can raise hell for centuries.” A hollow huff of laughter escapes them. He fixes them with a steady gaze. “You’re still you, Sole. That might be hard to believe right now, but its true. You’re the same person that waltzed into Goodneighbor and turned my world upside down. And I’ve still got your back, whatever you’re made of.” He chuckles, “Tinman.” and knocks his knuckles against their chest.

Nick- He put a hands on their shoulder. “Easy there, kid. This is a lot to take in.” He knows too well the way it feels to have the world pulled out from under you in exactly this fashion. It’d been a long time since he woke up in a dumpster with a head full of stolen memories, he knows better than perhaps anyone in the Commonwealth, or at least anyone in the room, what Sole is going through. Yet, he still finds it unimaginable. His memories are real. They’re not his own, but a man named Nick Valentine had existed once. To realize every face in your head, every ghost haunting your dreams, was just a part of your programming, it was unfathomable But just as he understands the feeling of realizing you aren’t really you, that your identity is a lie, he also knows what it means to break free of the preconceived template the Institute laid out for you. “They didn’t make you, understand? Everything you are, everything you’ve done, those got nothing to do with anything they did to you. Whatever they made you for, you made yourself, without their help.” He pulls them into an embrace with one hand and pushes the paper away with the other. They helped him accept this same simple truth, the least he could do was make them see it too.

Curie- She is only just beginning to grapple and understand her own newly found emotions, and all the knowledge she has on the subject are from purely clinical standpoints. The wisdom of old dead men on how to treat someone who is suffering from something impossible to heal through conventional means. She knows this discover must come as a shock to Sole. She knows there are things she should do to comfort them. But she’s unsure of where to begin. “Do you need to sit down?” No response. They merely stare blankly at the paper in their hands. “It is… fascinating a synth could develop such complex emotions as you have, non? If this is true, that is.” She takes a few cautious steps to their side. She tries smiling at them. “You are all the more incredible. To have gained the autonomy… the humanity you have gained. Ah, you are a miracle.” It maybe isn’t as comforting as she might have hoped, and it doesn’t seem to lift their spirits much, but they thank her anyway. It’s the truth really. This discovery just proved how extraordinary they truly were, even more than when she thought they were human. They were a machine that transcended beyond what they were designed for. She hoped to be like them someday.

Danse (pre Blind Betrayal)- His mind whirls into a tail spin, his breath quickens. A synth? He had been lied to this entire time by some synth plant in the Brotherhood? He almost feels light headed. They had been privy to some of the Brotherhood’s most guarded secrets- they had infiltrated the Prydwen with such ease! They stood ten feet away from Elder Maxson. They could have killed him, could have killed any number of his brothers and sisters, and no one would have been quick enough to stop them. He put them all at risk by trusting a complete stranger. How could he have been so blind? He levels his weapon against their head. “Did you know about this?” he demands. He shouldn’t be giving them a chance to justify this, to lie to him even further. He knows he has orders to kill synths on sight, but his need for answers in this moment eclipses his training. The shell-shocked look on their face almost makes him flinch. “I didn’t… I swear, I didn’t.” He grips tighter to his weapon to calm the tremor in his hand. The things he had trusted them with… He had told them about Cutler. Suddenly the gun feels to heavy to keep aloft. He lets it fall, turning sharply away from them. He couldn’t, not again. It had taken everything he had to put Cutler down when he found him, it had torn him open. Even if they were a synth, he couldn’t be responsible for the death of another person he considered a friend. “I never want to see you again, do you understand? When I report this, you will be an enemy of the Brotherhood of Steel, and if you show your face again, I will have you shot.” He leaves them alone in that cramped office and doesn’t look back. Next time, he won’t be so weak.

Danse (post Blind Betrayal)- He wouldn’t wish this fate on anyone. His identity, his memories, his very essence ripped away, through no fault of his own. It had been almost too much to stand. If Sole hadn’t have been there for him, he knows he wouldn’t have been able to take it. He wouldn’t be standing here with them now. Maxson would have had him destroyed if not for Sole, and if not Maxson, then… he remembers the way he had admired his gun after his secret had been exposed. There was no doubt in his mind that he would be dead either way. “I know it feels like the world is coming down right now. Nothing I can say or do will make that feeling go away. It takes time.” He took a deep breath. “But it gets better. Even when if feels like it won’t.” He gingerly rests a hand on their back. “And I’ll be here.” They had been his anchor to humanity. He’s almost grateful he has the chance to pay them back for that.

MacCready- He doesn’t know what to feel. Like he’s been lied to, by someone he’d never met, didn’t even know the name of. More than anything, he hates the people who made Sole, who gave them such a good heart, and made them suffer. His loss of Lucy and Duncan’s sickness had just been life being unfair and cruel, but someone made the conscious decision to do this to Sole. Some shithead sat at a computer and mapped out each heartbreak in their life. To give them a spouse and a child, make them feel that overwhelming love, and then to take it away. For what? To test them? How cruel could a person really be? Machine or not, Sole is his friend, they’ve proven that time and time again, and he has nothing but hate for the sick bastards that toyed with them like this. He takes their hand gently in his, coaxing the paper from their shaking grip. “This doesn’t mean anything, hear me? It changes nothing.” He tears the paper in half, in thirds, into bits too small to put back together, and scatters them across the floor. He cradles their neck and the back of their head to force them to look him in the eye. “This changes nothing.”

Deacon- He’d seen it before- a lot, actually. He was there when several synths came to the realization they were constructed. The confusion and hurt was to be expected. He hates to think there had been a time when he wouldn’t have accepted Sole, the person he had come to trust the most, when this news came to light. But more than anything, he feels suddenly more protective of them. The Commonwealth was often cruel to things it didn’t understand, none more so than ghouls and synths. How many people, who once hailed Sole as a hero, would turn their backs on them if this came to light? How many would do worse than that? People turned on their own families if they thought they were synths, whether or not they were dangerous. He pushed his sunglasses off to look Sole in the eye. “Nobody has to know about this,” he says, voice low, “We can just pretend we never saw this.” He cracks into a smirk. “I mean, what super secret Institute document? Never seen one of those!” They don’t look convinced, but he isn’t really sure what could convince them. “You know I’ve got your back. Partner.” They finally look up from the paper to him. He flashes them a smile and holds eye contact only for a moment, long enough to prove himself, before pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Cait- “Shite…” It’s all she can think to say. She never had much of an opinion about synths- she thought the Institute was scummy, but before Sole brought her on board, she never got involved in the politics of the Commonwealth. If the Brotherhood was out of line, if the Railroad’s cause was just, if the Institute had to be stopped- she never gave it much thought. They were all mad bastards as far as she was concerned. She never had to give much thought even to the concepts of synthetic humans. But this same attitude meant that, in the face of this revelation, she didn’t feel betrayed, or suspicious. She just saw a friend in need of comfort. She placed a hand on their shoulder. “You alright?” She can feel them shaking ever so slightly, and squeezes them a little harder. “Bastards, messing with people like this.” A smile plays on her lips, and she claps them on the back. “You know, I didn’t give my father nearly the beating he deserved. What do ya’ say we rectify it with yours?”

Piper- One of her biggest fears, the night terror she had for countless nights, was the Institute replacing someone precious to her. She often dreamed of Nat coming home one day different. The difference that came when someone was replicated. It filled her with dread and made her hate and fight the Institute all the harder, knowing it could happen, that it had happened to people she knew- brothers, mothers, friends, all taken and never returned. She might not know them as intimately as she did Nat or Sole, but she felt their grief. It feels… wrong, somehow. Even knowing the Sole she knows is the same one she has always known, the discovery of their origins sends chills down her spine. Looking at them now, it was like looking at a stranger with a familiar face. All the confusion and traces of fear of having someone close to her replaced with none of the replacing. She never thought she hated synths as a whole,- she hated lies, she hated the Institute for planting synths and spreading uncertainty, but now she had to question her own feelings. This feels like one big lie. They turn to her with a lost look on their face. “Piper, I…” Their voice cracks. The ice she felt creeping into her heart melts. She has to remember her own words; whether they’re born or built, a person is a person. She’d be the worst kind of hypocrite if she said such things, then turned around and gave her own friend the cold shoulder for things beyond their control. She sighs and steps forward, twines her fingers around their wrist. “I know. We’ll… we’ll figure this out, Blue.”

Preston- He fidgets with the strap of his rifle, his hands restless. He wants nothing more than to pull them into a hug. He can’t imagine what they must be feeling. To wake up one morning and realize everything you thought you knew, everything you are, everything you’ve done, all of it was unreal, it was beyond comprehension. He isn’t sure if he would be able to handle it. But he’s always known Sole is strong, stronger than him in a lot of ways. That’s what he’s always admired about them. “General.” It’s just a simple word, he’d called them by the title a thousand times since he’d bestowed it on them, but saying it now almost makes them jump. “I’m not-” they almost say. “You are,” he interjects. “The Minutemen will still stand behind you. I know I will.” They start to turn away and he captures them by the far shoulder, coaxing them back. “Whatever you were, you’ve proven yourself time and time again to be the kick in the ass the Commonwealth needs. You’re more than what you were made for.”

X6-88- They were never meant to see these documents. He realized too late what they had stumbled across, and can only stare blankly at them when they turn to him with accusations in their gaze. Father had personally briefed him on this experiment, it was his job to observe them, never letting on that he knew what he knew. Now they were compromised. “Is this true?” they ask in a shaking, yet commanding voice. “You weren’t supposed to-” They push past him through the door, clutching the paper in their fist. “Sir/ma'am, just wait a moment. Allow me to explain-” “This explains it perfectly well!” He sighs, watching their back retreat. “Beta 0 9 volaris,” he calls out, and they stopped dead in their tracks. Their grip on the document went slack, their head drooping as every tense muscle in their body went limp. He’d been advised only to use their recall code in extreme situations, otherwise it would be weeks, maybe even months of Institute’s work down the drain. If any situation called for it, this was the one. He crosses to them in a few long strides. “For what it’s worth,” he says, though he knows they can’t hear him in this state, “I have never considered anyone remarkable until I met you.” He relays to the Institute and hands them in to be reprogrammed.


	39. Fallout New Vegas companions react to baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENESHROOMS  
> Your most recent companion reactions got me to tear up 😭(especially Boone and Veronica jfc) amazing work! Maybe for something a bit lighter(or not...?) companions react to the Courier showing up with a child they found? (You can ignore the request this was mainly so I could pay you a compliment 🙏)

Arcade- He’s never been good with kids. He found them fascinating, considering they were living sponges that were learning how to exist and absorbing the information around them, but he had never gotten the hang of actually interacting with them. A few single parents would come to Followers now and then; he would pawn them off on the nearest doctor before they tried handing their shrieking ball of cells to him. So when Six presents him with this thing, this drooling, floppy, completely relying on him not to accidentally kill it thing, he can’t stop himself from recoiling. Six arches a brow at him. “Really? Are you really afraid of a baby, Arcade?” He wasn’t afraid of the baby per say. More he was afraid Six wanted him to hold the baby. And when they pushed it into his arms, that transformed into fear of dropping the thing on its soft little head and permanently damaging its developing brain. It wouldn’t even be his fault, babies squirmed. They actually craved death. He kind of did too when Six left the infant in his arms and started walking away. “Six. Six? Six, please don’t leave me with-” And the elevator doors close behind them. He tries shifting to push the call button, but the slight movement makes it groan and roll in its security blanket, which nearly sends it tumbling out of his grip. He stands there petrified for the next hour until Six’s return.

Boone- He is perhaps the most uniquely qualified person to deal with their new visitor. After Carla told him she was pregnant, he’d gone out of his way to find every parenting book left in the Mojave. He’d told himself then, if he knew what to expect, it wouldn’t seem so terrifying; which at the time, it was. Most of the Old World ones were pretty useless, but some folks had written new ones dealing with protecting an infant from radiation, how to keep them quiet when going through feral infested areas, and rather horrifyingly, how much slavers, tribals, and even the Legion would pay for healthy ones. To Six and pretty much everyone else’s surprise, he is the only one that can get them to calm down when they start to cry. He cradles them just like he’d read, nestled under his chin with a hand supporting their neck and head. He breathes in deep and slow through his nose. He’d always imagined this was how his own child would smell. It takes half a day before he even lets anyone so much as touch the baby wrapped up against his chest, and even then, he glares daggers at anyone that causes them any discomfort. He’s quick to critique other people’s baby holding form and watches over the little one like a hawk.

Raul- Growing up in a close knit household of a younger sibling, baby cousins, and parents all too happy to dump their bawling bundles of joy on someone younger to have time with other adults, Raul is no stranger to child care. He’s also the only person in Six’s band of misfits that can stand to change diapers or really knows how to do them properly. Inevitably this leaves him with the unpleasant aspects of having a baby around. Mostly cleaning up shit and spit up. But he doesn’t really mind. Especially when their little fingers wrap around one of his rotten digits and holds on tight, staring up at him with big liquid eyes and an implicit trust in their gaze that he hasn’t been afforded in a long time. To be in the glow of absolute innocence nearly brings him to tears.

Veronica- She had a way with kids. The youngest of Initiates loved her, and she loved them back. They hadn’t grown up into assholes yet so their company was about the only kind she really tolerated with the Brotherhood. Children and animals gravitate to her- people had told her it was her personality and good heart. She thought that child at heart charm worked on babies too, so she swept it up without hesitation, and was promptly met with a shrill scream. The scream grew louder and the cheeks redder when she tried making faces at them to calm them down. No amount of cooing or bouncing or belly raspberries could get them to stop. They squirm and kick so much she has to hand them back off, flustered and bewildered. How could a kid not like her? She’s the cool aunt! Every young Initiate had described her like that. The utter betrayal… She eyes anyone that holds the baby with envy, secretly dying inside. “I’m the cool aunt,” she whispers quietly to them after they’d been laid down to sleep, “I’m your friend? Friend, huh?” The second she tries tickling their belly, they almost start to cry, and she quickly slinks away, accepting defeat.

Cass- It’s not that she hated babies- well, kinda. It was hard to develop an opinion on someone or something she hadn’t really been around much. Babies were a rare commodity in a wasteland that blasted any viable eggs or sperm a person had with radiation just about every day. When Six waltzed in with a baby of all things, she really didn’t have much of an opinion. As long as she wasn’t the one taking care of it, they could bring home a Deathclaw for all she cared. One thing she wasn’t really prepared for was the crying. She knew one thing about babies, that they cried, but god damn, she didn’t think they cried this much. Sometimes it looked like they weren’t going to take a breath with how red and sweat they would get. It didn’t take long for this to get on her nerves, so she snatched up a bottle of whiskey and stomped over to Six as they held the little banshee. Dabbing a few drops on one of her fingers, she stuck it in the infant’s mouth when it opened wide to let out another ear piercing scream. “Cass, what the hell-” “It’s some Old World thing, s'posed to make them shut the hell up or somethin’. It’s kinder than throwing them out the fucking window.” And, after a few seconds of nubby gums chewing on her finger, she was finally rewarded with blessed silence. Only problem was, once they shut up, she wound up stuck with her pinkie trapped between a toothless, surprisingly strong baby jaw, and had to stand there while their wriggly little tongue sucked every morsel of alcohol off her skin.

Lily- It takes a lot of lecturing (“You swear you won’t squeeze them too hard? Promise you’ll be gentle.” ) before she’s even allowed to hold the baby. They’re small enough that her hand alone completely dwarfs their little form, and they almost fit entirely in the palm of one big paw. They look up at her, almost begin to cry, but a bit of soft cooing stops them in their tracks, and they stare up at her in wonder. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?” She brings them up to her face, and everyone in the room tenses, moving a step forward. A happy giggle breaks out and a resounding sigh of relief goes through the Lucky 38. The baby pats her exposed teeth and grips at the wrinkled edge of her lip. “You’re Granny’s little angel, aren’t you? You’re not scared of your old grandma.” They weren’t. Not even Leo intruded on the moment as the child explored Lily’s features and she did the same in return. Veronica can’t help but seethe that between the two of them, she lost baby privileges to the Nightkin.

ED-E- Tiny hands grab at every nut and antenna on the eyebot’s frame, and sticks anything it can get its grubby mitts on in its mouth. ED-E has never really seen one of these before. He gives curious blips and pokes it gingerly as he hovers around it. It bats at him and laughs shrilly. Whenever he plays back a song or a sound clip from his databases, they stare at him. He quickly learns this is a good way to get his laser barrel out of their mouth, and that it quiets them whenever they begin to wail for inexplicable reasons.

Rex- He laps at their round cheeks until he’s covered their face in slobber. They shriek with delight and grab at his muzzle, pulling on his upper lip and whiskers, grabbing at his ears. They laugh and wave their arms when he runs in a circle or barks. He decides instantly he loves this little thing and takes to sleeping curled up near it, even when it gets the habit of wrapping its mouth around the top of his glass encased cranium and slobbers him up in return.


	40. Fallout 3 companions react to Lone Wanderer having a panic attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> i have severe anxiety, and i was kinda wondering how the fallout 3 pals would react to LW having a panic attack??
> 
> (I’ve fortunately only had one really really really bad panic attack in my life so apologies if the description of Lone’s attack seems like a lot or dramatic, it’s just based on my own experience)

Charon- Their fingers entwine around a strap of his armor and it’s only then, when he feels their quivering hands batter against him, that he even knows they’re in the throws of a panic attack. He’d seen one a few times, mostly in soldiers and vaulties, but never in an employer. He somewhat awkwardly takes their arm to keep them steady as they start to spin out. Any words he might give to comfort them get stuck in his throat. They gasp, seemingly unable to take a proper breath, and all he can really think to do is breathe in deep, exaggerating the motion of his chest. Close as they were, it took them awhile to pick up the rhythm, but they did. After a few minutes they calmed, enough that they could stand and breathe on their own. Once it’s fully passed, they don’t speak much of it. He asks if they’re ok. They nod. They go on.

Butch- Freddie had these kinds of attacks now and then. It was a long time before he even realized they were panic attacks, or that his fellow Tunnel Snakes suffered from VDS, until they had to sit through those PSAs about depression in class one day. Once he figured it out though, Butch did the thing Butch did best- he went overboard. Reading up on depression, symptoms, what to look for, how to help. The Vault had a few pamphlets, only a handful of books unfortunately, a couple PSA reels, but James could answer just about any question he had. He did more research for the subject in a few weeks than school work he’d done his entire life. Butch saw the start of a panic attack maybe before Lone even felt it. “Ya’ alright if I touch you?” Breathless and shaking too hard to speak, they simply nod and he puts a hand on their shoulder. “What do you need,” he asks, trying to keep his voice even to avoid panicking them any further. They shake their head. “I-I don’t know, I can’t… my heart is beating too fast.” He explains slow and calm that method James told him helped, “Press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, alright? Exhale all the breath in your lungs, breathe in, hold it in for a seconds, let it out slow.” He taps his finger on their upper arm to keep time. He didn’t quite remember the exact number of seconds for each, but the rhythmic tapping seems to help them focus on it at least. When they can finally breathe deeply, he moves his hand up to cradle the back of their head. Later, they would express some surprise how he knew so much, or that he would even care about the kid he used to knock around, to which he would shrug. Tunnel Snakes had each others backs.

Clover- Predicting the slightest shift in Eulogy’s emotional tides was the one thing that kept her alive this long. She once heard somewhere that before the wars, cats could sense and warn of earthquakes. She felt a little like one of those cats when she looked at her Lone, sensing the tremor in their hands before she even saw it. All she can really do is hold them, arms wrapped around their waist as they shake in her embrace. Every attempt at a breath makes their entire torso shudder and she would give anything to ease their suffering, though she isn’t sure what she even could give. Slavers and the company she usually kept weren’t prone to panic attacks and she has no idea what to do. Some of the new girls in Paradise Falls, maybe, but she was never allowed to give them much comfort before they were ushered away by their masters. She runs the palm of her hand firm but gently across their chest, until their heart is no longer hammering in their ribcage and each breath comes a little easier than the last, filling up her hand each time. She holds them long after the storm subsides.

Jericho- He can really only roll his eyes. The smallest thing had set them off. Lone constantly acted like they had it just oh so hard out here. By the time he was their age, he’d seen more fucked up shit than they would in their entire lifetime, and he never cried and carried on like this. Shaking, gasping like a fish out of water. Imagine if they actually had something to cry about, beyond a dead dad and a little raider blood on their pristine little suit. He slings his gun over his shoulder and shoves them into the nearby wall. “Oh, get over yourself,” he snarls. “Shit happens. It’s the wastes. The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can get past all this bullshit.” He walks off and it takes them nearly a half hour to catch up, looking pale and still a little shaky. They don’t ask for his advice but he gives it nevertheless; “Cut that shit out. Nobody’s got time to coddle you.”

Sarge- Mister Gutsy units are not known for their compassion. He isn’t much help. Even when Lone is doubled over in a panic, hardly able to speak, RL-3 just hovers around them, shouting mostly. “Are you just gonna break down and cry? That’s not conduct befitting a soldier, soldier! You stand up this instant and quit this-” It’s only when Lone puts a hand on his chassis and commands him to stop that he finally does. Then he simply stands there, the mechanisms in his eyes whirring softly as all three of them focus on 101. They make it through in their own time, with little help from Sarge himself, and it’s a day or two until Lone lifts their gag order on him. They can hardly even be mad at him. That was just his programming.

Paladin Cross- She’s had to deal with her fair share of shaken recruits, had even been one, once upon a time. While she no longer suffered from regular panic attacks, she knows too well the terror, when it feels like your head is about to fall off, fall apart. She sits them down on a nearby crumbled pillar of a building and slips out of her power armor to kneel in front of them. Every part of her would like nothing better than to just pull the poor kid into an embrace, but she remembers how claustrophobic that made her feel when she was younger, even if it had the best intentions. Instead, she lightly touches their leg. “Lay on your back and try to breathe, alright?” Their whole frame shudders, but they do as she says. “Arms above you head. Take the deepest breath you can and just hold it in the bottom of your chest.” Again, they obey without a word. She gives them leg a gentle squeeze. “Take a moment to ground yourself. Focus on anything. How does it smell, how does the rubble feel under you. Anything. Center yourself in this moment.” The next breath comes a little easier than the last, and the next easier after that. They’re still a little weak and light-headed when they speak, but the worst is over. She sees the way their eyes are downcast afterwards. “It isn’t weakness, you know. To feel that way. It means you’re strong, strong enough to endure it. When you rise, you’ll be stronger than when you fell.”

Fawkes- He sits, Lone sitting in front of him, so his massive frame hides them from anyone that might intrude during this vulnerable moment, or raiders seeking to take advantage of it. He can’t do much beyond that. One big hand rubs up and down their back, as gentle as he can possibly manage. He feels them shake against him and it breaks his heart. They’d done so much for him, always been so kind, yet when they needed him most, this was all he could offer. He speaks to pass some of the time, recites interesting history lessons he’d learned during that long lonely stretch of time before they came along, if only to occupy their mind with things other than whatever panic had hold of them now. He recalls, in some distant, long forgotten memory, that perhaps he knew someone that had a similar ailment. It could have been anyone really, it could have even been him- those memories often bled into stories he’d read and there was no trusting his own mind. But he felt some familiar sense of pity seeing Lone like this. He’s patient until they can bring themselves out of it. Afterwards, he searches high and low for any information about anxiety he can in whatever medical textbooks he can get his hands on. Which aren’t many, and the ones he does find have scarcely little on the subject. But knowing about it makes it less frightening, and he feels better prepared if he could just understand it. So he reads whatever he can find, for both Lone’s sake and his own.

Dogmeat- Lone’s fingers dig into their leg and he nudges his muzzle against the hand, lapping and ever so gently nipping until they stop pressing crescents into their skin. When they hug their arm to themselves, breathing heavily, he presses his nose under their chin, firmly leaning against them. Lone wraps their arms around his torso, until the motion of his chest rising and falling against theirs begins to sync up their breathing with his, and their fingers drum against his side. He sticks by them especially close, gives whatever comfort he can, anything he’s capable of. Lone was never more grateful for his being there.


	41. Shaun's childhood raised by companions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Hi! I love your writing so much! I don't know if I submitted this ask. So sorry if I did and forgot. Given Shaun somehow is able to "age" or progress as a person, could you write the different kinds of childhoods he'd have and what type of person he'd become based on the companion Sole raises him with. (And could I pretty please have a bonus where he's raised a little by everyone?)
> 
> (Thank you! And you’re fine, as long as you don’t spam me with a bunch of requests you don’t have to worry about resubmitting the occasional ask. Dogmeat and Codsworth excluded in the solo reactions)

It takes a village to raise a child; Sole and their compatriots take this phrase maybe a tad literally. On the bright side, Shaun has a deep, deep pool of aunts and uncles to draw knowledge from on subjects he isn’t familiar with. Danse and MacCready often fight over who should teach him to shoot (“I can hit a bloatfly from two miles out, I think I can teach a kid how to handle a gun.” “If he doesn’t plan on scouting out sniper nests for a hour before every altercation, he’ll learn from me!”). Strong is the cause of his first broken bone when Shaun tries to have an arm wrestling match. Curie is the one to set it and scold Strong. Cait and Hancock sneak him his first tastes of alcohol, each thinking they’re the only ones who do so. Cait in particular, after an intense round of day drinking, gives him an impromptu sex ed lesson, and it’s an almost too honest -and descriptive- answer to Shaun’s question of what sex was, not to mention quite different than the diagrams Curie showed him on reproductive organs. Piper is undoubtedly his best aunt, or at least, the closest thing to a well-rounded adult figure in his life. She’s usually the one he comes to with problems, and also dispels many of the myths Deacon hands down (“No, you do not become a werebear if you eat charred yao guai meat.”) Nick is more of the grandfather that knows card tricks. Codsworth is Codsworth, remaining the same mildly overbearing nanny bot he’s always been. Preston never really gets the hang of him. He treats him a lot younger, being unsure what kids Shaun’s age are “in to”. X6 isn’t the most helpful when it comes to rearing kids, and Shaun only really turns to him when he wants brutal honesty.

Between the lot of them, Shaun ends up fairly well-rounded, with an…eclectic set of skills, to say the least. He’s taught a little of everything. When it comes time for him to leave the settlement, he leaves on dozens of handshakes and more than a few proud tears.

Danse- With Danse, he is groomed into the picture of an army brat. It goes without saying that his upbringing is strict, sometimes even a little harsh, but loving and full of happy memories as well. Danse is not entirely warm, but then, he’s not entirely cold either. Sole never lets Danse treat Shaun too much like a Brotherhood initiate. They have to remind him now and then that they’re not going to shoehorn their son into a military career when he’s instructing him on the meticulous way a soldier should make his bed in the mornings. He does learn a lot on maintaining power armor and firearms, and leans more into becoming a mechanic when he starts working. That, or following his father’s footsteps into the Brotherhood (though he’s not popular, considering Danse’s history with them). Making his father proud is tantamount in Shaun’s mind, he pursues any life that would do just that. Danse raises him to be brave in the face of doubt, do what feels right, and to never let others decide your fate.

Hancock- Despite his laz a fair approach to his own life, he does try to set Shaun on a better path than the one he ended up going down. He cleans up a little, weans himself from the harder chems, and if he does keep a few habits, he doesn’t do them around the kid. He’s very much the “go ask Sole” type of father, and Shaun gets away with a lot around him. Just enough to be considered a mischievous kid and not a delinquent. He gets his first taste of beer early, his own switchblade, his own tricorn hat when he’s old enough it doesn’t slough off to one side of his head. Shaun adopts a lot of Hancock’s virtues, his self-confidence, loyalty, leadership skills, charm, but is taught to avoid many of his vices (which is mostly Sole’s doing). If he doesn’t end up taking up Hancock’s mantle of mayor, he likely ends up leader of a group like the Minutemen, leaving a string of broken hearts along the way of whatever path he treads. He’s a charmer, quick witted, and is taught to use his head above all- which also consists of keeping it clean. He doesn’t take up the casual chem use that Hancock suffers from.

Deacon- Little white lies are all Shaun is really allowed, yet he makes the best of them, and he develops a good poker face early on. Deacon is more honest with Sole than anyone else, but first and foremost, he is a pathological liar, prone to wild stories, and Shaun adopts that a little too well. He impresses his school mates with all the stories of his heroism, like the time he took down a radstag single-handed with nothing but a hunting knife. His tall tales either earn him a gullible flock of followers or a beating from the kids smart enough to see through his bravado. But he doesn’t just learn lying from Deacon- he also learns compassion, fighting for what you think is right, protecting the people who are most vulnerable. And he is the single hardest kid to trick. He sees through deception just as easily as he carries it out, so he quickly unravels most of the stories kids get told (Sole has a nightmare of a time trying to convince him of Santa Claus). His tendency towards “exaggeration” places him in the position of a salesman later in life, hyping up his wares just enough that they seem shiny and appealing. If not that, then he’d find himself with the Railroad, helping in whatever cause they follow when the Institute is gone. Learning from Deacon’s mistakes, he becomes an honest liar, easy going, and fights for the marginalized.

Piper- Having mostly raised her little sister on her own, Piper sidles pretty easily into the role of a mother, and his childhood is earnestly close to “normal” with her and Sole as parents. As normal as things ever really got in the Commonwealth. He does, however, get into scrapes in search of stories for Piper to cover. Being an investigative journalist is on par with being a spy in his mind- keeping your eyes and ears open, finding contacts, meeting in secret. He mostly grows out of this, but Piper still instills in him a love of the written word and a desire to educate the Wastes on things beyond the farms and cities they relegate themselves to. He takes to traveling at a young age, writing of his experiences in the Commonwealth and eventually, the rest of the ruins of the United States. If he doesn’t become a writer, he likely goes into law enforcement, making sure (like Piper always taught him) that justice comes to those who wrong others. He’s as silver tongued, compassionate, and as worldly as the woman who helps raise him.

Curie- She’s learning how to act human as much as Shaun is, so she mostly goes with whatever Sole says when it comes to raising him. They know better than she would; despite knowing how to keep kids healthy, she had little experience with their emotional needs. Still, she does her best. She reads him stories, partakes in nightly rituals like tucking him in and humming him to sleep, and when he’s too old for all that, she giddily encourages him in his studies. He learns more from her than anything taught in school. She teaches him not only how to treat disease, but passes on a genuine compassion and desire to help, to learn, to make the Wastes a little better in some small capacity. When the time comes for him to strike out on his own, he travels further than Curie ever has in search of knowledge, and exchanges the knowledge he brought from the Commowealth. He saves lives, being a kind and caring figure all the while. He becomes everything Father could have been before he was twisted by the Institute.

Nick- Having a robot detective as a father is probably the coolest thing a child could experience, and Shaun is in near constant awe of Nick. Nick himself takes easily to being a dad and enjoys it. Shaun is his son, and really, with them both being synths cast from similar molds, it never once felt like he wasn’t family. Having someone he could pass things on to… it was more than Nick had ever really hoped for. He spends much of his childhood in the glow of the heart-shaped sign outside Valentine’s Detective Agency, reading through old case files, picking over evidence from new case files, and each case is a puzzle for him to piece together. He grows up sharp and inquisitive, eagle eyed with a nose for lies. He also learns as much about synth’s inner workings as he does humans. Nick needs the occasional tuneup when Sole isn’t around, so he helps now and then with the screws and panels he can’t reach on his own. With this knowledge, if he doesn’t end up taking over the agency, he goes out to help runaway synths still wandering the Commonwealth, confused and with heads full of memories that aren’t their own. He grows to be perceptive, a natural problem solver, and sets the wrong things right wherever he goes.

Cait- Her biggest fear, besides sliding back into old habits, is becoming her parents. She does her damn best to be a good parent almost entirely out of spite. Shaun is absolutely spoiled rotten. If Sole won’t give him something, he asks Caits, and nine times out of ten he gets what he wants. She’s as short tempered as she’s always been, yet for him, she keeps it together. For him, she does better. She’s also wildly protective, and unsurprisingly, teaches him most problems can be solved with his fists. He’s reared knowing how to stick up for himself, and the two of them spar a few times a week until he’s old and skilled enough to actually beat her in a fight. By the time he’s ready to leave home, there is no doubt in anyone’s minds that he’s been raised to take care of himself, whatever is thrown at him. Strength and fighting skills usually don’t amount to much more than falling in with a gang of raiders, but Shaun knows that’s not the life either of his parents want, and the thrashing he would get if Cait knew he even considered it, so he goes into work as a bounty hunter, a body guard; anything that lets him both use his skills and sleep with an easy conscience. He’s a little wilder, a little louder, and grows up to be a fighter.

MacCready- Having some experience raising kids, he takes in Shaun without second thought. Duncan has a big brother when he arrives in the Commonwealth, the two of them taking to each other almost right away. There’s hardly a day they’re separated, playing catch and shooting BB guns with their father. Shaun is protective and immensely proud of his younger sibling, and MacCready can finally loosen the tight grip he’d kept on his youngest son. He still keeps a watchful eye over the two of them, but he feels like, finally, there was someone he trusted implicitly to keep Duncan safe. Of course, the more he gains, the more he fears losing, and he can sometimes be a bit harsh if either one of them do something dangerous. He couldn’t take losing them. This drives Shaun to leave at a fairly young age, learning MacCready’s stubbornness and the bravado of his youth, and Duncan is quick to follow. The two, having been taught to shoot guns before they could read (as well as stay out of the thick of fights) end up becoming a formidable pair of snipers. They know better than to join up with the Gunners or other mercenary gangs, instead becoming guns for hire. Freelance killers with a bit stricter moral codes than their father. If only a bit. He’s cunning, careful, and a hell of a good shot.

Preston- Being as young and new to parenthood as he is, he isn’t entirely prepared to raise a child who came to them fully formed. He’s anxious, always concerned he’s doing something wrong, but he does the things his father did for him. Teaches Shaun to shoot, the importance of a good book, that being kind is a reward in itself. He also teaches him the things he had to learn for himself; that it’s fine to cry, to not be okay, to rely on others for strength when you feel like your own is failing. Shaun’s childhood is as bumpy as any child’s is in the Commonwealth, but with Preston, there’s light even in the darkest times. He carries this indomitable sense of good and rightness with him even when he’s grown, and if he doesn’t settle into a simpler life in a settlement, he joins the Minutemen, carrying on the values he’s been taught. Preston teaches him the strength in community, that hope and mercy are not weakness, and to always lend a hand, whatever he does.

X6-88- He has spent more time with Shaun (this version and technically, the human Shaun as well) than Sole ever has, only, just not in any kind of parental role. He ferried him back and forth from the Institute and the Commonwealth and their relationship never went far past that. It was strange, suddenly being a role model for someone. Siblings, parents, family, they weren’t really an option for synths in the Institute. For Coursers, even less so. The first few years, he’s more of a bodyguard than a parental figure. Learning to let go of the death grip he has on Institute protocol and the image of synths as tools, that takes awhile. Shaun helps. He loves him, which meant a synth like X6 was capable of that. It was a comforting thought that one day he’d feel for Shaun what Shaun felt for him. He relies more on Sole for getting through the emotional turmoil of youth, as most of X6’s responses to trivial things like school and first loves is fairly cold indifference. Not like he really understood it, he’d been made without thought for such things. He was still navigating some things (like first love) himself. What he does instruct Shaun in mostly pertains to combat, though he does teach him a skill that helped X6 survive in the Institute- masking your true emotions. He’d have been reprogrammed a long time ago if he hadn’t picked up that talent. Shaun grows up somewhat cold with him, making a habit of keeping those pesky feelings to himself early on, to the point not even Sole can really coax them out of him. Not fully. As X6 learns how to be more human, Shaun learns to be more machine. His nature and intelligence veer him, oddly enough, into politics. From X6 he learns cold calculation, the importance of keeping your cards close to your chest, and that there’s little use for remorse.

Strong- Childhood with Strong being a co-parent is… weird. To say the least. Sole does everything they can to keep him from feeding the kid human meat, even though he insists it will help Shaun grow big and strong, but now and then there are a few bits of mystery meat sneaking their way into his meals whose origins Sole couldn’t quite suss out. Regardless of his potential foray into cannibalism, Shaun does, surprisingly, learn a thing or two from his Super Mutant guardian. Mostly the things a man can say that will make their fellow man spontaneously shit themselves. More than a few scrapes with older children ends with Shaun bellowing in his closest approximation of Strong; “THIS IS WHAT DEATH LOOKS LIKE UP CLOSE!” Despite Sole’s best efforts, Shaun takes after him, even beyond shouting his throat raw. Many arguments with him end in headbutts. He grows into a young man who takes no shit from anyone, who understands brutality can be a necessity, and who fights with the feral tenacity of a mutie. Ignoring family protests, he goes into raiding (ever the lucrative business) and is renowned for his uncanny ability to shout down Super Mutants bands that encroach on his band’s territory. That, or he’s a respected fighter in the nearest Thorn. Sole might have more influence on his morals, but Strong passes on the knowledge of Super Mutants. Which isn’t much beyond violence and shouting. He grows up pretty confused.


	42. Fallout 4 companions react to being called Mom/Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MORTALLYDECADENTBITCH  
> Companions react to synth Shaun calling them "mom/dad" (romanced please) btw love your reactions!
> 
> (Love abandoning my blog on a bi weekly basis. Codsworth, Dogmeat, and Strong excluded cause I think Shaun will mostly get “Shaun? You ok there buddy?” looks of confusion if he did that)

Hancock- He’d never thought about kids, because that was always a far off prospect, a part of a future he always thought he wouldn’t live to see, or didn’t want to focus on too long. Back in Diamond City, he always thought he’d cash out long before any kid he might have had would be big enough to remember him, or even speak. And if any of the ladies he took to bed got pregnant, none of them told him. After becoming a ghoul, he knew any hopes of being a father would be dashed. Sole was the first person that made him really even think about fatherhood. They had a whole little pre-packaged family for him to squeeze into. He’d thought of himself as Shaun’s dad for a long time now, but actually hearing it come out of the kid’s mouth, it hits him right square in the chest. He gets more choked up than he anticipated. He actually has to bite down on the start of a whimpering sob, and it comes out in a strained squeak. “You okay?” Shaun asks. Hancock clears his throat, but his voice still cracks when he says, “Y-yeah, squirt, I’m alright. Just got a uh, frog caught in my throat.” He’s beaming the rest of the day.

Deacon- He’s wearing his shades and a hat pulled low, face mostly hidden behind a crinkled newspaper, and Shaun passes him with a casual, “Hey dad.” Then he’s on his way again. He’s almost shaken. Not just because that was the first time Shaun had used that word, but because he’d so easily seen through him, and not just his disguise. Deacon relied on being illusive, staying far enough from the bear trap that was personal attachments, lest he end up chewing off his own leg to escape when it inevitably clamped down too hard on him. Better to avoid them entirely, before they trapped you. He had been careless. Had let Shaun and Sole get close, and now his stomach churned from the wave of guilt pulling him under. Worse than his own neglect was the feeling of rightness in that word. It didn’t hit his ears as being inherently wrong, a word not meant to describe him, like ‘Deacon’ had been once. He liked Shaun. He liked being ‘dad’. He liked being Shaun’s dad. He swipes off his glasses and pushes off his hat, more naked than he could remember being in years, and can only laugh at himself, baffled. “What am I gonna do with you, kid,” he mutters, but he knows the answer. He leaves his things behind and follows the one, truest thing he has. 

Piper- Shaun has actually called her 'mom’ several times before it really sticks out to her. She likely wouldn’t have noticed if Sole didn’t jokingly repeat the word once, after Shaun asks for a few caps to grab a bowl of noodles from Takahashi. It’s then that the full weight of it sinks in. A warmth instantly flushes through her chest and into her face, and she has to clap her hands on either side of her cheeks. “He called me mom,” she says, incredulous. “I’m mom.” Sole can only laugh, “You know he’s been calling you that for weeks.” She feels embarrassed at her own thick skull, but giddy at the same time. She’d basically raised her little sister, yet Nat had no choice, she was her blood after all. That Shaun had chosen her, weighed his options and decided, yes, she was 'mom’- there were no words for it. She had never been more grateful, and when he returns from Takahashi, she sweeps him up in a hug that lasts long enough he complains loudly. And again he calls her 'mom’, in a petulant and drawn out groan that still makes her tear up.

Curie- It was hard coming to terms with her feelings for Sole. They had been exceedingly patient while she worked out the tangle of her new emotions, found out how to live without stooping to the base impulses that insisted she spend every moment in Sole’s wake. Like a rat tapping a button wired to the pleasure center of their brain until they died of starvation. She just felt good around them, and eventually, good around Shaun as well. She couldn’t imagine a life without either of them. It took time to temper that feeling, so new and alien to her, until she felt comfortable when not in their presence. Perhaps it was the already intense love she felt for both Shaun and Sole that made accepting motherhood easy for her. She knew the importance of a mother in a child’s life, or at least a soft figure they could rely on, so she tried being that for him. The one constant in an otherwise harsh world, eager to grant him no reprieve from the horrors beyond Sanctuary and the protection of his parents. The first time he says, “Love you, mom.” she chokes up. It’s the first time her keen analytical mind could make no sense of what she felt, the sensations too human and overwhelming, but she hugs him tightly and lets the tears pearl in her eyes. She loves him too, and somehow, knowing (or at least guessing) that he must have felt that same overfull sensation in his heart that she did in hers, she’s never felt so human.

Nick- Technically, he and Shaun might have been more closely biologically related than Shaun and Sole. So far as either of them were 'biological’ to begin with. To him, Shaun and Sole were family, regardless of what any of them were made of. But being family and being a dad were two different things, so when Shaun busts out that little one syllable word, it stops Nick dead in his tracks. He almost thinks he short circuited. “What was that?” Shaun looks up at and blinks. “I said thanks, dad.” There was definitely no mistake that time, the kid called him dad. He stares, completely dumbfounded, and swears he can hear something audibly whirring in the back of his head as his wheels spin uselessly. He doesn’t know how to respond. He just pats him on the top of his head, ruffles his hair just a bit, before walking out with a smile on his face and a warmth deep in his chest. It might have been petty to frame it this way, but he feels, for the first time, he has something the old Nick never had. Something entirely his own.

Cait- It makes her tense all the way up her neck and shoulders. Holy shit. The kid actually thought of her as a mother. She wasn’t a mother, she couldn’t be, she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. The only mother figure she’d had in her life was the scum of the earth. If she was a mom, she would be just like her, wouldn’t she? She would fuck up. She would make Shaun like her. She would infect him like her mom infected her. Hearing him say it almost sends her into a panic attack. She leaves without much warning and it takes an hour for her hands to stop shaking. All the shit she faced in the world and a kid calling her 'mom’ was the thing that terrified her the most. She almost had to laugh at how pathetic that was. Only after hours of talks and more than a few tears between her and Sole can she stand to hear the word without grimacing, but even then, it sends her mind barreling through all the reasons she didn’t deserve the title.

MacCready- He hadn’t impeded on Shaun’s life, had been working slowly, moving further in his life by increments. He didn’t waltz in the first day, slap a baseball cap on his head and insist Shaun call him 'Pops’. He had been a kid once, and any adult that tried too hard to seem like one of the good ones was an adult he didn’t trust. Kids could pin a phony a mile away. So MacCready had been patient. Never overstepped his boundaries, and made sure Shaun knew he would respect lines drawn, as most kids have never been told they could draw lines adults would find worth respecting. It wasn’t long before Shaun ran to him for an understanding ear and a shoulder to cry on. The first time he called him 'dad’ was through tears over a schoolyard taunt, and it took every bit of strength he had not to end up bawling right along with him. When it was settled and he’d sent him away with a bit of wisdom (“You can hit a kid in the face with a sock full of mutfruits really, really hard and it doesn’t leave a mark. They can’t snitch if there’s no proof you hit 'em.”) he’s left to run the word over in his head again and again. His brain plays tug of war between joy and a longing ache for his son so far from him.

Preston- He’d always expected, when he had a little one of his own, that hearing them say 'dad’ would be the highlight of his whole life. It is, in a way, but there is no awe-stricken realization, no tears. Shaun is his blood- what else would he call him? It isn’t that the title is unimportant, nor mundane, just that it feels so natural, it never strikes him as out of the ordinary. It’s what he is, after all. The true importance only dawns on him when one day, while Shaun is playing fetch with Dogmeat, and a settler nearby smiles at him. “That your son?” No one ever asked him that. They never really had to, it was no secret his relationship with Sole, and most people in Sanctuary knew every detail of where Shaun had come from, where Preston fit into the family. His chest swells unexpectedly at the prospect. At the thought that yes, Shaun was his son, and he his dad. He nods. “He seems like a happy boy,” the settler chuckles. Preston rubs the back of his neck, “Well, I’m trying…” And that was it really. He was trying to make him happy, keep him safe. Sometimes it was effortless, sometimes not, but he was trying, and that was all he could be expected to do.

X6-88- A nagging pedantic streak told him that no, he was not Shaun’s father, could never hope to be half the man Father had been. For all his conflicting feelings on the Institute, the Shaun he had known was still a man he respected, had admired, as much as a Courser was capable of that sort of thing. They were built for cold calculations and solid logic- idolatry was never a facet of their programming. Even beyond not measuring up to the man himself, X6 found it hard to take the innocent comment in the way Shaun likely intended it. As a way to convey how Shaun saw him. He had never been overly familiar with either Shaun or Sole, even after the months they’d been together, as gentle as Sole had tried to be with him. They had wanted to ease him into a more human place in the world, but it hadn’t really clicked for him. Yet he couldn’t deny the way that word fell on him, with a heavy and comfortable sort of weight, like a burden he somehow knew he could carry. Wanted to carry, wanted to be close to the boy and Sole, wanted to be called that again and again, wanted to allow himself to want in the first place. For the first time in his existence, X6 found himself wanting something, a selfishness he, until then, would have considered himself incapable of. He wanted this.

Danse- With no memories of his own parents, or any family to speak of in Rivet City, Shaun and Sole had come to mean a lot to him. He loved them, and the mere presence of that deep well of emotion made him feel human, like he felt before the revelation that saw him banished from the Brotherhood of Steel. That Shaun was like any other kid, that helped too. That gave him hope. When Shaun looks up at him with bright eyes and ends a simple question with a casual “Is that ok, dad?” Danse is struck with just how unprepared he is for it. He wrestles with how to answer, this is a big moment hidden in something small, after all. Does he let himself tear up? Does he hug him? What he settles on feels alien and uncomfortable for him, but he reaches down to ruffle Shaun’s hair and in a voice that is almost not his own, says, “Sure, s-…son?” Of all the reactions he could have gone for, he lands on the one that hits him as the most awkward. Shaun can only arch a brow. “Uh… ok. Thanks, dad?” The word 'son’ slips once more out of his mouth and he has never been so thankful for Shaun’s departure, so he can bury his face in his hands. He’s happy, but he’s also embarrassing.


	43. Fallout New Vegas companions+House get jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> New Vegas romanced companions getting jealous? Do you think you could include Mr house and my checkerd suit boi Benny too?
> 
> (Rex, ED-E, and Lily excluded cause it’s only romanced characters)

Boone- Boone’s jealousy looks the same as his rage, his sorrow, his joy- it’s hard to catch. He’s a hard man to read, and he likes it that way. Jealousy is not an unfamiliar sensation for him. People looked at Carla all the time, and it rose his hackles whenever eyes lingered on her a little too long. Really, feeling that same scalding rush go up his back when they share a drink with a stranger in a bar, it’s the first time he thinks maybe he wants to be more than a spotter for them. Keeping things bottled up like he’s prone to doing, it made it hard to untangle his own feelings. All he really knows is he doesn’t like how close they are to Six. So he takes a seat on their other side. If any man was capable of melting someone with their gaze, while also never taking off his sunglasses, it’d be Boone. He stares holes through them, with only the slightest wrinkle near his mouth to tip off his disdain, until eventually they sheepishly slink off. He doesn’t mention it. Neither does Six, but they most certainly notice it. They notice it the next six times it happens too.

Veronica- She knows its her own hangup, and something she has no right to inflict on anyone. But she can’t help the twinge in her chest. Veronica had never been a very violent person. Nor did she consider herself the jealous type- she never had been with Christine or any of her other partners. Seeing Six close to someone else, however, stirs her up more than she’d like. She can only stand to watch for a few minutes before she casually walks over, brings up her arm, around which she’s clapped her power fist, and lets it hit the table with a thunk loud enough to make her presence known. The mechanisms in it whirred idle. The loud sound of the initial clunk, along with her all too saccharine smile, is enough on its own. When Six fixes her with a look, the jealousy that had pulled her up to stand so tall dissipates, and she deflates. “I wasn’t really gonna-” She gestures to her gauntlet, but even she isn’t sure if what she says is true. She certainly felt a very real impulse in the moment. At a loss, she simply props her chin up in her hand and gives a very wide open mouth grin. Six gives in pretty quickly and they’re all hers once more.

Arcade- He rationalizes himself into a corner. He knows the heat in his neck and face are irrational, that Six is just being friendly with someone else, that there was absolutely no reason for him to get this tense and protective of them. He does anything he can to distract himself. Rummaging around his pack, he produces a clipboard and pencil, and busies himself with writing to avoid focusing on the exchange that is going on for way too long nearby. Throwing himself into his work was how he dealt with most unpleasant feelings. He unconsciously holds the pencil so tight his fingers cramp. However, he doesn’t realize this until they put their hand on Six’s shoulder, and he snaps the thing in two. Arcade doesn’t want to feel this. He most certainly doesn’t want to act like he had some claim over another human being, just because they flirted and once, gotten close enough to kiss. That doesn’t stop the ugly seeds of jealousy from burying themselves in his throat. But knowing why he feels the way he does, and knowing how useless an emotion jealousy is, doesn’t stop him from being overcome by it. All he can really do is burn until he’s spent. Like hell he was ever going to admit how he felt.

Raul- Out of all of them, his is the least…theatrical reaction. Raul’s been around long enough to run the gauntlet of relationships, and he knew the only thing quicker to poison a relationship than infidelity is jealousy. There are the slightest pangs in his chest at first to see Six engage with someone that’s not him. It’s almost nice. It’s an old feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time, and with it came memories of a foolish youth when there was a fire in him. But he knew that fire was misguided, too often directed at a significant other, and as with all fire, it was only effective at burning things down. He takes a moment to breathe, remind himself that Six had chosen him. They had the whole Mojave to choose from, and they had picked this old ghoul. Because they loved him. He trusted them more than anyone in the world. The thought brings a smile to his face. It shifts the light, pushes back at the encroaching edges of jealousy, and he’s comfortable again. He does also take a moment to slip his arm around Six’s waist. In case it wasn’t clear who they belonged to.

Cass- Cass’ jealousy manifests pretty blatant and openly. The second she gets so much of a whiff of someone impeding on her space, she makes a point to push forward into Six’s space. She is the least subtle person in the Mojave, and she doesn’t waste time pussy footing around what she wants. She fixes Six’s suitor with a look, not of jealousy, or anger, but a passiveness that said they were hardly worth the trouble, and gestures over her shoulder. “Scram, dick. You’re barking up the wrong tree.” If you could say anything of Cass, it was that she was blunt as a rusty machete. But what else was she to do? Sit back and glare at this bozo and Six, when she could just be upfront about it. That’s not her style, and it’s a quick way to grow resentful of your significant other. That shit’s beneath her. If she has to spend the night with her arm wrapped around Six’s shoulders to avoid getting hit on, that’s what she’d do.

Benny- He’s a gentleman, isn’t he? A gentleman doesn’t seethe with jealousy when he sees someone chatting up his doll. A gentleman most certainly doesn’t then corner that poor soul when Six is out of sight, and surely, he would never have his men march them into his room. A gentleman like him-really, a scholar, an all around level-headed, renaissance man like him- doesn’t break that fucker’s nose with a pair of brass knuckles. Threats that if he ever saw them anywhere near Six again were beneath him. And surely, he was too good to break one of their kneecaps with a baseball bat. But then, Benny never really was a gentleman, and love’s a funny thing. It could make a man go positively tribal. That’s what the poor sod that hit on Six learns, anyway. It’s a lesson they remember every time they put weight on their shattered patella.

Mr. House- Being the ultimate sugar daddy in the post apocalypse, as well as a generally formless super computer, his jealousy manifests a bit differently. When one of his security cameras catches Six and a stranger touching their arm, House discretely has that person’s permission to enter the Strip revoked, and they’re booted the next day. Then, rather abruptly, they vanish. People vanished all the time, after all. What was one more? The next time Six enters the suite, there are drinks on ice waiting, as well as a gleaming new rifle and a bumper stock of ammo to fill it with. The finest the Silver Rush had to offer when he sent an attache out to shop for him. He’s bought out their entire stock of hollow points and armor piercing rounds- as well as hundreds of rounds for Six’s favorite weapons. He says nothing of the incident, only that he felt like buying a gift for them. For a decrepit old man piloting an intricate intelligence network, he’s exceptionally good at marking his territory, and not a soul in Vegas thinks about looking twice at Six again once word gets out.


	44. Dean, Charon, and Raul confess how they feel to PC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> How would Dean, Charon, and Raul go about confessing how they feel around the courier/lone wanderer? Also good luck on your book! Will you ever post updates on this blog regarding it?
> 
> (I’ll totally be posting updates when there are updates to post lololol Whatever it ends up being. When significant progress is made, you guys will be one of the first to know. Right after my parents ;D I actually have something coming up in the fall I’m excited to share with you guys! I don’t know how big the overlap of my followers + Critical Role fans is but I’m postin that shiz anyway when I can)

Raul- He knows saying that little four letter word out loud was nearly a curse for a man like him. How many people had he said the words “I love you” to in his life? How many of them had he had to bury before their time? He can’t be part of another epitaph on another tombstone, another “survived by”. So he keeps those words to himself, as if locking them away would stop cruel fate from snatching away another loved one in his life. Raul’s confession is still blatant in it’s own way. They’re passing one of the casinos, on their way to find or kill someone, or both, as was usually the case, when a song comes over Six’s Pip-Boy. His eyes flash to them, as they always did when he heard a love song, or as they had been doing for the past few weeks. He gives them no warning before taking them by the arm and giving them a twirl, launching into a dance that leaves a startled Six breathless from laughter, and Raul breathless from exertion. They look at him, still held flush against his chest, brow raised. “What was that for?” Raul shrugs. “Sometimes your feet get giddy.” His hands still interlocked with theirs, the two of them stay close, swaying on the sidewalk like they’re the only two people in the world.

Charon- He has trouble untangling himself from the decades old web he’d wrapped his feelings up in. Or lost them in, might have been more accurate. It was necessary to guard his deepest thoughts and feelings from the people who had, until this point, done nothing but probe into his head and rewire what they found there. Lone had no intention of doing that. He had little left to believe in, but he believed in that. The compulsion to keep them safe slowly turned to the need to see them unharmed, and soon that became the want to share the same space as them. To want anything was a near forgotten feeling for him. There was rarely any point to wanting anything when you knew what you wanted was either unimportant or not in your control. Yet here he is, wanting them. But Charon is not a man of many words. The language of wants and freedoms is beyond him at this point in his life. A confession sits heavy in his throat as he watches them, knowing there was little chance of him expressing the true extent of what he feels. He doesn’t have the words for it. He merely falls into step beside them, and slips his fingers into the space between Lone’s digits, where he feels they rightly belong. Lone’s eventually curl around his and hold tight. Words prove unnecessary.

Dean- A miracle worker, that sly Courier. They were the one person he’d stumbled across since that fated night at the Madre who could quiet the insistent little voice in his head. It had served him well, to be sure, but it’s constant stream of paranoia could get pretty old some days. The voice that bid him to lay traps and stow away caches around every corner is, dare he say, sweet on Six. He feels safe at their side. That tells him all he needs to know about his feelings towards the Courier. He’s got Old World blood in his veins as thick as flies on Brahmin shit, and despite himself and the circumstances of his life after the bombs, he’s still got a sappy and saccharine romantic streak in him, born of all the old songs and movies. They sit on the roof of his apartment, watching the setting sun glow softly on the edges of the Cloud, snaking its way through the Sierra Madre’s guts. Up this high, it’s almost pretty enough to forget how the stuff stuck to your lungs and gummed them up in blood. This high, it looks a little like the cotton candy he’d enjoyed so much when he was a boy on his family’s trips to Coney Island. He has to laugh, and Six asks him what’s funny. “Being around you make my thoughts fuzzy,” he chuckles with a swirl of his martini. “Got me thinking of all these things I haven’t thought of in awhile.” “Good things, I hope?” He smirks to himself. “Good things,” he replies, “Things you think about when you’re on the hook.” They fix him with a look that had a want for explanation, but he merely hums an old tune he hasn’t felt in his heart in a long time.


	45. Fallout 4 companions react to Sole Survivor vanishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> i’m on an angst binge and i’ve had this scenario in my head for days!! how would the companions from fallout 4 react to sole suddenly leaving without a trace, only leaving behing a letter or a holotape with an apology about them not saying goodbye in person?  
> (Dogmeat and Strong can’t work nor understand holotapes so they’re excluded)

“If I got the nerve together to go through with this, you’re wondering where I am. I would have given you a proper goodbye, God knows you deserve that, at the very least. But I knew, if I stayed, if I brought myself to meet you and say to your face ‘I’m leaving’… I know I wouldn’t have been able to. Don’t try to follow me. You can’t follow me through this. I’m sorry. This is goodbye.”

MacCready- He’d always been expecting something. A knife in the back, getting left behind when one of the bullet maelstroms they endured proved too much for Sole, their friendship too tenuous and unimportant for them to suffer for him. They surprised him every time they helped pick him out of the dirt after a fight. It had always been too good. He knew it was. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he had hoped, foolish and idiotic as that was. Hoped he had found someone to trust, someone deserving of it. Someone he could give his all to, knowing they had his back. And here he was again; alone. He’s angry, understandably. He kicks chairs and curses after he finds the holotape. He wants to throw it against a wall so hard it shatters, smash it under his heel, with an anger he hasn’t felt in so long he almost isn’t sure what to do with it. But he hesitates when it’s in his hand. If they didn’t come back, this would be the last time he hears their voice. He’s torn between the white hot anger that bobs in his throat and the inexplicable need to keep something of theirs close. The need wins out in the end. He tucks the holotape away in his rucksack and goes on, alone, as he’s always been.

Preston- In the back of his mind, he should have known things couldn’t stay the way they were. It was dangerous to put so much weight on one person’s shoulders. He had thought if the burden was ever too heavy, they could share it with him. He had prayed to God or whatever benevolent deity that was gracious enough to let him wake up in the mornings alive, whatever force brought them together, he had hoped… this was a person like him. Better than him. Kind enough to want to tilt the world back on its axis and strong enough to see it through. Succeed where he failed. But that had always been the fatal flaw of Preston Garvey. He hoped. Worst of all, even as he surveys Sole’s room, empty and cold as the day they wandered back to Sanctuary, he still has hope. Hope that one day he’ll see their shadow on the horizon again. He leaves the holotape where it lays and walks out into the streets, shaking off the foggy daze in his head. There’s work to do. Too many people depend on him for him to linger too long on the dense pit in his stomach.

Danse- People came and went in Danse’s life, too many for him to even remember most of their faces. Even some of the faces of soldiers he’s buried blur at the edges. He’s no stranger to loss. Yet the striking sense of loss he feels when those words crackle from the radio, that’s something he’s not prepared for. He has to play it several times for the message to really sink in, and each play leaves him angrier than the last, his brows furrowing, chest tightening. It didn’t make sense. They had faced down monsters together, the military might of the Brotherhood, they saved his life several times over, and now they had left without so much as a proper goodbye. Or a reason. What could be the reason? What could be so important or dangerous that he couldn’t follow them? The thought they might be in danger, alone, makes his head spin. He never got to really thank them for all they did. He never repaid them. What if now he never got the chance? No, he decides, climbing into his armor. He wasn’t going to spend his days wondering, hoping to see them some day long from now, dreading they were rotting somewhere far from him. Whatever they thought they were walking into, or walking away from, they were not going without him.

Curie- She’s confused, hurt, as much as she knows she has no right to be. Curie had always planned on going off on her own someday. Or at least, she had thought that at first. She had always wanted to see the world, learn what she could, and when she left the Vault, she had always intended to do that alone. In all her visions of her own future, Sole was never in them. After they met, the change was subtle, enough she didn’t notice it. With their departure, she realizes she had seen them together in all those lofty dreams she had once dreamed alone. She feels a heat behind her eyes too late, fat tears streaking down her synthetic face before she has a chance to stop them. “Why not take me? Huh? Why can I not follow?” She shakes her head, blobs of tears slipping loose from her jaw to plop softly to the tabletop. “This is unfair. You are being unfair!” She would have let them come with her, whatever dangers she might have faced. She couldn’t help thinking they thought her weak, or worse, she had somehow grown fonder of them than they had her. Both prospects filled her with equal parts anger and grief. She shoves the holotape as harshly away from her as if it had burned her, turning on her heel to march away from the offending farewell. She had never thought herself quite capable of hate. Now, she hated the person she cared most for, no matter how dearly she wished not to.

Piper- The first time she listens to the holotape left behind, she’s too stunned to think much of anything. Sole’s voice pours through her brain like a sieve. Nothing quite sticks enough for her to make sense of it. The second time, she argues with just about everything it says, aloud. “-if I stayed, if I brought myself to meet you and say to your face ‘I’m leaving’-” “Oh, what you would think twice? Why on Earth would that be a good idea, huh? Thinking twice about something, no, that just wouldn’t do!” “-n’t try to follow me. You can’t follow me thr-” “No, you know what’s the best idea, to creep out in the middle of the night like a- like a-a vampire or something! A selfish, stupid, blood sucking-” “I’m sorry. This is goodbye.” Her breath catches in her throat, mid disapproving finger wag at the tape player. A long stretch of silence follows the click of the tape coming to an end for the second time. “No.” She swipes up the tape, stuffing it in her rucksack, along with an armful of supplies off the counter. “No, no, no. You don’t get to do that, Blue. You don’t get to ghost off mysteriously into the fog without so much as an explanation. You better hope I don’t find you because you will be that! A ghost I mean!” Too flustered to properly berate the empty air she imagined Sole would have occupied had they not been an ass, she shoves everything she can fit into her bag. The door rattles on its hinges when she slams it shut. This is why you can’t disappear on an investigative journalist- they find out the truth in the end, and little stands in their way.

Cait- She hardly gets through the message. Before Sole is finished saying goodbye, Cait’s fist collides with the player, caving in the speakers. Garbled static and the distorted remnants of what Sole was trying to say linger until she brings down her knuckles on it once more, smashing it over and over and over again, until the crumbling shell of the holotape player and its contents are all that remains. Pieces shred her skin, blood mingling with frayed wires and scattered shards of plastic. She shouldn’t have been so angry. One more let down was hardly a surprise, nor was disappointment new to her life. Hot tears still struggle past the lump in her throat, and she feels so stupid for crying over someone who doesn’t deserve her tears. If they did, they wouldn’t have left some pussy message and ran away like a coward. She buries her face in her bruised hands, cursing, hating Sole and the trembling in her limbs and herself for letting them get so close. What had she expected? This was always going to be the outcome. She had been a fool to think otherwise. When the rage subsides, she regrets letting it get the better of her. The tape she destroyed might have had a clue where Sole had gone. She tells herself she would want to know so she could find them and beat their face in like they deserve. Really, she just wants to know where they are. There’s nowhere she wouldn’t have followed, no matter what they said.

Deacon- He can hardly blame them. It’s practically a page out of his handbook. Vanish in the night, leave behind cryptic message, never be seen again. Hell, it wasn’t just one of his plays, it was his retirement plan. But then, he was a spy, a habitual liar, and wholly unattached. Sole was another story. Deacon leans against the table, tapping his fingers against the holotape left behind. He understood the need for secrecy. Sometimes you just need to disappear. Understanding doesn’t make it sting any less. They were honest with each other. As honest as one could really be. There was something comforting about having someone else hold onto some of his secrets for him, and stick close enough he always knew where they were. To know they were out in the wild somewhere, he feels suddenly exposed, like when he felt his wigs sloughing off to an angle on a job. Not like Sole would go blabbing to everyone the deeply personal things he had shared with them, but still. “We tell each other shit, y'know?” he says aloud, as if the holotape would respond. “You coulda told me anything.” He almost takes the tape with him when he goes. Almost allows himself an attachment. He buries it instead, truly leaving no trace of Sole behind.

Nick- There was a moment, a few long moments, even after he files the holotape away and continues his work in Diamond City, that he thinks about going after them. Missing persons were practically his specialty at this point. Finding people, especially ones that didn’t really want to be found, made up a good percentage of the cases that came across his desk. Sole was different. He knew them too well, respected them too much, to go against their wishes. They had gotten close since their first meeting in that Overseer’s office, when they came to his rescue. They became one of the few people he trusted without second thought. That was the only reason he didn’t go after them. If they had vanished without proper goodbyes, they had a damn good reason, that he was sure of. Every now and then, glancing over to the empty chair they so often occupied in his office, a seed of doubt unfurled somewhere in his chest. You better have a good reason, he thinks. And you better not stay gone. Despite the finality of their goodbyes, he expects to see them every time the door of Valentine’s Detective Agency swings open, and they occupy his thoughts in the moments of quiet between cases.

X6-88- His orders had been to follow them, do as they say, within the bounds of his own programming. The news of their disappearance displeases his superior’s in the Institute, but X6 finds he doesn’t much care for their reactions. More than anything, he’s struck by how much he appears to miss them. The two of them had become familiar with one another, in a fashion that came dangerously close to fondness. He knew better than to reveal this to anyone. He’d be sent off for behavioral recalibrations if he ever expressed how empty the halls felt without them walking shoulder to shoulder with him. How quiet it felt without them making idle conversation. It was almost overwhelming at times, how the quiet pressed in, how asphyxiating the emptiness felt. Weeks later, when he’s assigned the task of tracking them down, he’s glad. The way his pulse leaps at the prospect of seeing them again should concern him like it would concern Father and the others, but he doesn’t give it much thought. He has to hide the slight tilt at the corners of his lips when he accepts the mission to find Sole, whatever the cost. 

Hancock- Their voice is filled with such sadness, it weighs heavy on his heart long after he turns the holotape off and pockets it. Something was wrong. It had to have been, if they couldn’t share it with him. They had taken on everything the Commonwealth threw at them as a team. Never once had something been so bad they felt the need to protect Hancock from it. Whether that was a rampaging Deathclaw or the revelation his only brother had been replaced by a synth. As hurt as he is to be left behind, he’s more concerned than anything. He pulls every string he can get his hands on, calls in every favor, until there isn’t an eye in Boston that doesn’t belong to him. Every wisp of smoke that so much as resembles Sole’s figure is relayed back to him. The search is mostly fruitless, and he suspects it’ll remain that way. Sole is a person who can get lost if they really want. He keeps it up regardless, for both of them. If he lives his life never knowing what became of them, it would eat at him for the rest of his very long life. If they end up in bad straights, they would be grateful for his efforts, no matter how badly they wanted to disappear. Either way, he’s not letting them go sight unseen.

Codsworth- The gears click in his head, spinning uselessly as he tries to make sense of what he’s hearing. If he had olfactory senses, he might have smelled the coppery tang in the air of his circuits burning hot in his chassis. He was a machine, made to serve the express purpose of looking after a family. Without that family, he had no purpose. He had suffered it once before, been without them for centuries. To see them again filled him with- there was no way to put it, really. Filled him with things he couldn’t begin to understand or quantify. They had made him think he might get to live out his purpose again. What would he do without them? He replays the tape several times, until eventually he simply puts it on loop and lets it run while he floats about the town, aimless. He never ventures far from home, and the sound of Sole’s voice is never quiet for long. Just a few seconds between plays, while the tape rewinds. He answers to no one, and after a few months, no one in the settlement tries to coax anything out of him. He’s left to float the streets, the quiet hum of his engines and Sole’s voice the only sound the bot makes.


	46. Charon headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Do you have headcanons about Charon?
> 
>  
> 
> MY SON HNNNGH

-My biggest headcanon is that he’s a pre-war ghoul, and his contract is part of an experiment conducted by the military to program either soldiers that could never go AWOL or sleeper agents that could get inside enemy lines and then would be activated. They used a number of methods, everything from mind altering drugs to straight up torture and conditioning to achieve the effect. It’s all very much psychosomatic though, the contract is actually just the consent form he’s been lugging around for 200 years. It would take some time, but he could essentially unlearn his obedience if someone qualified tried to break him out of it. Most people just use him for combat, few people have ever even made an effort to dissolve his contract.

-On a more light hearted note. he really enjoys music. We all know about the happiness is a warm gun thing, but the taciturn ghoul likes any kind of song (although he’s partial to blues), and wants nothing more than to have an afternoon in a chair with the radio on. The only song he doesn’t like is Butcher Pete. That song can die in a fire as far as he’s concerned.

-K this one hurts my heart but, around the time of the 3rd game, he’s fighting feral tendencies, and it’s part of the reason he’s stern and clipped. I mean, he’s always been like that, but it’s especially apparent then. His conditioning and the contract has helped him kind of hold onto himself as long as he already has, but as the years go by, his grasp on whatever made him Charon is slipping, and he turns a year or two after Project Purity. 

-He’s an only child born to a lower class family, but he doesn’t have any mementos left over of them from before the war. Even the house he grew up in (which he’s not entirely even sure he lived in it was so long ago and the contractual experiments were so taxing on him mentally) was reduced to ash, being at the heart of the one of the atomic blasts. He doesn’t think about his life before the bombs much, he considers it pointless to dwell. 

-The man who held his contract before Azrukhal (a nerdy asf fellow who plundered libraries and needed an extra hand navigating the wastes) taught him about Greek mythology, and was the first to suggest the name Charon. They went through several, but “Cerberus” and “Hades” sounded too heavy handed, plus Charon didn’t want to name himself after a dog, even if it was a three headed hellhound. Azrukhal ended up killing him and taking Charon’s contract, which is part of the reason he hates him so much.

-And to end on another lighter note, he can eat an entire box of Sugar Bombs in one sitting.


	47. Clover headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Do you have any clover headcanons!?
> 
>  
> 
> Clover headcanons you say!?

-She’s bi, but after being mistreated so much by the opposite sex, she rather subconsciously leans more towards women than men.

-A good karma LW would confuse the hell out of her. She expects everyone to be as nasty as raiders, and would mistrust them a lot at first if they somehow recruited her. In her experience, the especially awful people always feign kindness, and civility is a tool for sociopaths to get what they want. (like Burke)

-Speaking of Burke, she gets escorted up to Tenpenny Towers every month or so to entertain him. He never wants Cherry. As I headcanon him as a fairly uh, intense bdsm enthusiast, the trips are something she dreads. He’s rougher than even Eulogy has ever been to her. After hearing about him getting knocked off, or Tenpenny Towers getting taken over by ghouls, it takes a lot for her to not break down crying from the relief of never having to go there again.

-However, when she does have to go up there, Dashwood always sneaks her snack cakes when she was on her way out. It’s the only thing she doesn’t have to share or pay for and she treasures every one of them

-She had a little sister. They got separated after being brought to Paradise Falls, and the last she saw of her was when she was dragged away to be sold off.

-Her guilty pleasure/escape are Pre-War homekeeping magazines. She tries to spruce up the LWs house to look more like the houses she sees in them, but she is only good at it in theory. She can’t cook and she gets bored with cleaning, but she can sew, so the closest she comes to replicating the ‘happy home’ look is making a throw pillow out of an old dress.

-And lastly, she loves Dogmeat to death, or any pet LW has honestly. She treats them like children, and is 100% one of those people that puts clothes on their dog to take pictures of them. Only she doesn’t have a camera, so sticking a gardening hat on Dogmeat is just for her own amusement.


	48. Joshua Graham romanced headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Can I get some romantic Joshua Graham headcanons? Like would Courier help him wrap his burns? How would he grow attracted to them? Btw never stop writing, you’re really great and I love your work! 💝
> 
> This is the most self-indulgent thing I could write for this blog but…this is very much up my alley. And thank you! I don’t intend to stop writing any time soon so no worries about that ;)

-I feel Joshua would become attracted to two different kinds of Couriers, the ones who show mercy or the ones who are hellbent on vengeance. A Courier who can be calm in the face of adversity, show love for their enemies, offer forgiveness, and just hold to the tenants in the Bible he himself has trouble following. Seeing good in the world would draw him in immediately and probably foster a great affection for Six immediately. However, he would also be attracted to the opposite- someone that brought hellfire and gave no quarter. Someone that brought down the sword of justice as righteously as the hand of God. While the former would ease his soul a lot, and he would be more gentle with them, he latter would bring out the worst in him and maybe let him in indulge in the brutality of his former life. Some people are into that (like me, I’m into that). One way or another, he sees power in the Courier, whether that power lies in the goodness of their heart or their commitment to doing what he sees as needing to be done.

-It would take some time for him to trust the Courier enough to help him change his bandages, he sees the pain of suffering it by himself something of a necessary penance he has to subject himself to and endure alone, and even after falling for them, he wouldn’t ask for help. If they took it upon themselves to help, he wouldn’t turn them away. It’s probably one of the most intimate things he could do with the Courier (sex excluded cause that’s a whole other thing). After all, he says every day he exposes himself to the air and it’s like reliving it again- he would have to really trust someone to let them see him like that. (Definitely don’t listen to this song while imagining a Courier telling Joshua they don’t want him to hurt, don’t do that)

-If the Courier isn’t the first to make their feelings known, Joshua would absolutely keep whatever feelings he develops for them to himself. He thinks the only thing people can really get from him is his protection and knowledge- affection is something he feels unworthy of, love even less so. J.E. Sawyer even says the only people in the world he thought would accept him were the New Canaanites, so he doesn’t really expect to be really loved by someone in anything more than a platonic sense, even admiration it kind of pushing it. He’d fully expect rejection and knows it’d be better for them to live their life far away from him.

-If they did manage to get him to agree to a relationship of some kind, he would practically worship the Courier. Even if it caused him pain, he would touch them with only when he’d removed some of his bandages- unwrapping the ones around his hands to touch their cheek, moving the ones away from his mouth when he nestles his nose into the crook of their neck, letting them touch his bare chest and back. I’ll leave it up to the readers to decide if he can do anything more than that given his condition, but he would put their pleasure first and foremost. A relationship with him would be a weird mixture of being overwhelmed that someone loves him and a sense of guilt, both that he’s found some semblance of happiness he feels he might not deserve and that he somehow tricked the Courier into feeling the way they do.

-This would probably be way way down the line, well after they’ve established a solid relationship, but I definitely see him popping the question. Not a lot of people in the wastes are exactly concerned with pomp and ceremony, and there are few companions I see actually going through the trouble of a wedding, but Joshua does what he can to do it right- a ring, a celebration, a priest, everything. It’s a humble affair, probably consisting of him, the Courier, a witness, and someone to officiate, but it’s still nice. He likes being able to call them his spouse. Making a vow to God to keep them in sickness and in health is probably the biggest promise or commitment he could make to someone.


	49. The King headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Do you have any headcannons for The King? Its like no one talks about him
> 
>  
> 
> It’s a real shame too! I love that cosplaying dork. I can see why he’s not talked about a lot though, we don’t know much about him.

-He doesn’t let kids hang around the Kings. He’s worried they’ll think being in a gang is the best thing you can do in Freeside, and he knows this will just perpetuate Freeside’s cycle of violence. He gives them a few caps whenever he sees some kid beaming with admiration, enough for a meal, makes them promise they’ll go find a book to read, and shoves their little asses as far as they’ll go. He doesn’t need some snot nosed kid thinking gang life is glamorous and getting shot.

-He’s got a mandate to all members of the Kings- if they see some junkie on the verge of an overdose or someone hurting in the streets, they’re to deliver them to the Followers immediately for treatment. Most of the Followers patients arrive with a member of the Kings escorting them, and the King himself is known to make sizable donations when he can afford it.

-He was briefly a slave in the Legion, after they tried assimilating his former tribe into their ranks. He was one of the unlucky few that didn’t get away quick enough when the battalion of legionary rolled into town. Eventually, with the help of other tribals, he escaped, and took with him one of Anthony’s prized hounds- a certain German Shepard with cybernetics and a bull painted on his side.

-He’s a giant teddy bear. The type of guy that goes in for a hug when you offer a handshake. That’s not to say he’s a pushover though. He’s got a mentality similar to Hancock. Do no harm but take no shit. People often forget how god damned scary he can be when brought to anger, because it happens so rarely, but he can be downright terrifying. No one survives the Mojave wastes in a tribe without becoming a hard S.O.B. It’s lucky for Freeside (and the Mojave at large) that it takes a hell of a lot to get him riled up enough to show this side.

-Lastly, after arriving in New Vegas, he discovered a love of Pre-War cinema. Not just things involving Elvis either, he devours any old holotape he can find, and knows many of the classics by heart. Every week or so, he hosts a screening with the Kings and anyone willing to sit through “Gone With The Wind” or “Wizard of Oz” for the fiftieth time.


	50. Kellog companions headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> Because I'm a thirsty ho in denial: Headcanons on how you think Kellog (Fallout 4) would be as a companion/romance
> 
>  
> 
> Bro. Bro, bro. Bro, listen. I’m only gonna tell this to you and all 1,500 of my followers and whoever they reblog this to. 
> 
> I’m mad in love with Kellog. This request pleases me.

His likes/dislikes would be similar to MacCready’s. Sole asking for more money when accepting quests, helping kids, and choosing sarcastic dialogue choices would garner his approval, while being the selfless hero type would lower it. His companion perk would likely have something to do with stealth, like making Stealth Boys last longer. If his approval goes low enough, he leaves: no discussion, no second chance to earn his trust back, he leaves one morning while the player sleeps and doesn’t come back.

-He wouldn’t consider dating anyone, he’s 108 by the time of Fallout 4′s events after all, making him a good half century older than anyone he meets. And he’s not into ghouls. But since Sole is the only person not only older than him, but with all their skin, hair, and original teeth (most of them at least) they’d be the first person he ever considers a relationship with. Of course, he wouldn’t reveal this until much later in his companion quests. 

-He’d stick with the player through any of the ending, with the Brotherhood, Minutemen, or Railroad, but would likely not approve of an Institute ending. However, no matter the ending, if Sole leaves Synth!Shaun behind to die, he leaves. No amount of speech checks, charisma, approval, or bullshit excuses would make him stay after that.

-His companion quest would maybe have to do with erasing him from Institute records, making it appear he was dead, or (if the player isn’t friendly with the Institute) fighting off coursers to keep him out of their hands. He’s got a lot of their valuable tech in his body, they likely wouldn’t want him just walking around free, and I doubt he would want to go back to working for them once the player signs him up for their team. 

-His responses to flirting would probably be along the lines of “Huh. K.” until later on in his quests, where it’d be more like “Why. What the hell is wrong with you? I killed your spouse and kidnapped your kid, you should hate me.” If taken to see Sole’s spouse…sicle, I don’t think he’d apologize. Apologies are just words, and ultimately meaningless. He doesn’t forgive the guys who killed his family, and he wouldn’t expect Sole to forgive him. But the only way to really progress is to forgive him, which just fucks him up royally. He could confront the player about it, maybe even be a little angry and frustrated at how they’re treating him (like he isn’t a giant piece of shit), but mostly, confused. Why they want to help him, why they make all these obviously flirting comments, why they didn’t just shoot him in the head when they found him. It’s up to the player if Sole really is willing to let it go, might still harbor anger (which would end the relationship) or is willing to work on it with him.

-The last phase/affinity talk, where the player seals the deal yknowhatImsayin, Kellog could finally allow Sole to call him Connie, a nickname no one’s used since Sarah (unrelated note, I really hate how many dead wives are involved in the companion’s backstories, but egh, another time). He might start talking about his asshole dad or his strict mom, until realizing Sole has already seen all of this when they did the memory swap. Maybe he chuckles when it dawns on him that, out of everyone in the Commonwealth, Sole is the only person that knows so much about him- about his wife and daughter, even his parents, who he’s never discussed with anyone. Sole is also about the only person that understands how much it hurts to have something so genuine and lose it all. In a weird way, Connie is responsible for the deaths of both their families, yet Sole is still willing to give him a second chance. A real second chance, not what the Institute offered him.

-Many feelings ensue! Kellog might not be like the other companions in terms of lovey dovey stuff, he won’t be like MacCready and say he’ll walk with you for the rest of his life or call you babe like Preston, but he’d be noticeably softer with them after all this, and expresses concern over their safety. He might angrily spit at them to worry about themselves if they run into the fray to Stimpak him, and there could be a little more panic in his voice if Sole does something dumb like jumping off a roof. His “Lover’s Embrace” comments would, again, be checking in to make sure Sole is doing okay (all the Institute modifications mean he doesn’t need to sleep very much, so he’d mostly keep an eye on them during the night and his comment would reflect this, stuff like ”You were talking in your sleep again. No bad dreams, I hope?” ) Every now and then though, he’d slip up and say something mushy because I too am a ho in denial and I really like the image of a very stern, scarred up old merc like Kellog telling Sole he won’t let anything happen to them. 

I could go on forever though so I’m gonna force myself to stop here, before I outline an entire “Kellog Companion” mod. I mean, I literally just did, but… >:Y


	51. Further Kellog headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> More Kellogg as a companion please! Me and my friends love your headcanons!
> 
> Bawww gee wiz, this was a nice message to wake up to.
> 
> I honestly don’t have much beyond what I wrote! I mean… I do. I have… so many Kellog feelings. So many. Like, so many I would have to sit down and write an entire fanfic if I wasn’t already caught up in ten other writing projects and commissions and life stuff. /casually slides “KELLOG GETS A NEW BODY” fanfiction back into my shame documents/
> 
> Eghu alright a couple more short ones. Actually I’m using a few of these for the aforementioned fanfiction I am definitely not writing at this very moment (shutup) so I don’t want to spoil anything I might bring up in that

-I always hated how the thing with Nick talking in Kellog’s voice happened once and was never explained or brought up again, so let’s fix that. If Sole doesn’t spare him the first time they meet, and goes down the Dangerous Minds quest by hooking Nick up with Kellog’s brain thingamabobber, they’ll have the option of recruiting him another way- getting him a Gen 3 synth body. Either through the Institute or Railroad, Kellog becomes available as a companion after essentially bringing him back from the dead. Literally everyone disapproves and even Kellog isn’t sure it’s the best idea. But during the search, if the player brings Nick along, Kellog could pop in and out of his brain to make snide comments.

-He’d have a few unique bits of dialogue around Synth!Shaun (and really, if you think about it, has raised and been around him and the real Shaun way more than Sole so it makes sense, whole other bucket of fried feels) and might collect things when out traipsing around the Commonwealth. A peek in his inventory could find teddy bears, gumdrops, and other kiddy stuff he’s collected to give to the kid once he and Sole go back to whatever settlement Sole stuck him in. He is also that uncle. You know, the one that let you smoke cigars and drink a little of his beer. Sole can tell him to knock that stuff off though, after Shaun comes to them complaining how tobacco and hops made him puke. (”What? Stuff puts hair on your chest.” ) He also has unique lines for Shane Kowalski, Nat, and Billy from the Kid In A Fridge quest. Basically he talks trash with Shane and Nat because they’re mouthy little shits but if the player checks up on Billy, Kellog acts much nicer. Sole speculates he’s been body snatched.

-If brought along when the player blows up the Institute (or just during the last phase of the Institute questline), he and the real Shaun have a short conversation. Connie would be mostly surprised he’s outliving him. He might act a little flippant during this, but would tell Sole later that it’s like losing a kid all over again- and this one he actually got to know. Mary was just a baby when he lost her. He had a lifetime to look over Shaun. 

Alright I made myself sad.


	52. Fallout New Vegas companions+Vulpes, Joshua and a deathly ill Courier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS  
> how would romanced new vegas companions(+romanced Vulpes and Joshua Graham) react if courier had fallen ill with incurable deadly disease and didn't have much time left?/also sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language, but i hope the point is understandable/ love your blog btw💟
> 
> (Oh hey another really really sad one SORRY I'll do something nice next. Also thank you so much! Lily, Rex, and ED-E excluded since it’s only romanced)

Arcade- He is more furious than he’s ever been in his life. While Six grows weaker and their time together grows shorter, he pours most of that time into research. He gets his hands on whatever information he can and clings to every bit of it, as if any of it could slow the sickness. As if there was an answer buried somewhere in these pages. There isn’t, but that makes him look even harder. Because there has to be an answer. This wasn’t going to be their end. Every day he goes without a cure, Six fades a little more, and he spends a little more time fretting over his notes. Eventually his every waking hour is spent in the nook he’s carved out for himself in Six’s sick room. If he focuses on words that begin bleeding into each other the longer he stares, he doesn’t have to focus on the deathly pallor in Six’s face, the wheeze in their chest; how absolutely terrified he is. Its hits him one night, slumped over his useless sprawl of nothing. Just how scared he actually is. His life hadn’t been terrible before they met, but facing it without them now, after having basked in their overwhelming presence for so long, it’s more than he can handle. For the first time since this sickness reared its head, Arcade allows himself to utterly and completely break down. Because Six really is going to leave him alone once more. He’d be dragged back under the complacent and empty waters they’d fished him out of that day they walked into the fort. And there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it. With this realization, and some time spent silently weeping over his strewn papers, he abandons his research entirely. Whatever they had left, he decides he’ll spend at their side, his hand entwined in theirs until the end.

Boone- Carla went quickly, and only when he sits beside Six does he realize what a blessing that had really been. It was gut wrenching, it did and continued to rip him open on a daily basis, but God, it had been quick. He had some sort of control over it. He still did, his mind sometimes supplied, and he would feel his trigger finger twitch. A muscle memory that day watching over towering crucifixes. Then Six would open those eyes, hazed and feverish as they were, and he knew he could do nothing. He is powerless. And yes, a certain degree of selfishness tells him he can’t do it. He never got his goodbyes before. Six might suffer, but they’ll stay, at least for a little while. He doesn’t get his hopes up that by some miracle they’ll actually pull through. He’s not a fool. He accepts it, and his powerlessness. With nothing left to do and no future to imagine with them at his side, all that he has are the moments they have. As few and short as they may be. He never ventures far from their bed, tells them all the things he wish he had a chance to when he lost his last, and who he had considered for a long time, his only, love. They joke that it took a death sentence for him to really open up. He can only smile.

Cass- When it becomes clear Six isn’t going to get better, Cass takes it better than either had really expected. She’s more open with her affections, her “I love you”s coming easier than before, and she spends every moment in their presence touching them. Petting their face, curled against them while they sleep, her hand molded to the shape of theirs. She wants them to know what they mean to her, and takes every chance she gets to show them that love that had been, regrettably, so hard to get used to before. By the time Six is too weak to move and they both know what comes next, she helps them into the back of a borrowed caravan. Six’s days are spent under the warm Mojave skies and distant twinkling stars, and their last sunset they spend, leaned against Cass’ shoulder. They share a drink and watch the sun sink below the mountains beyond Yangtze memorial until the night comes.

Veronica- She doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t quite let the notion of losing them sink its claws too deep in her mind. They’re Six. Wonderful, wild, went-to-Big-MT-and-survived-losing-their-brain Six. They were a survivor, plain and simple. Even when they haven’t been able to stand for a week, Veronica sees no future in which Six isn’t there, with her. Really, she doesn’t want to see it. She takes care of them and smiles, like death is an impossibility. She makes them laugh a lot, even if it hurts, sends them into coughing fits. She does anything to make them smile. It’s to lift their spirits as much as it is to stop her from thinking about how strained every rattling breath was becoming for them. They joke like neither have a care in the world, spread comics across Six’s sickbed, talk until they’re both hoarse. Really, it’s the first time either of them have had a chance to stop and just… talk. She learns everything she can about them, filling the time with anything other than talk of mortality. When she opens their curtains on the morning of a new day and they don’t stir, the thin porcelain veneer she’s tried to uphold shatters, and she breaks too late to say goodbye.

Raul- He’d always known he was likely to outlive them. He would outlive most people he met. It was part of why he didn’t grow too fond of anyone, though his past experiences losing loved ones had more than taught him the folly of real attachments a long time ago. But he didn’t think it would have come both so fast and so agonizingly slow. He spends every hour he can, regaling them with tales of his life before the war. He gives them only the good memories. Every inconsequential little memory- how bacon smelled on the warm summer mornings of his youth, the heat of a fire after a day spent playing in the snow, the sound of wind rustling tree branches- he expounds on, Six with their head rested in his lap. They come a little easier with them. Running his hands across their head and shoulders while he talks, and they let him. Things hurt a little less like this. He can’t take them back to those beautiful days, before everything was washed in a radioactive glow, and he can’t give them anymore time. The best he can do is give them his own time, his own memories. Give them something to hold on to.

Vulpes- Coming to terms with that stirring he felt to look upon the Courier had been difficult. Stupid, really. It had been foolish to let himself get close to someone like them. To anyone. If anything, seeing them deteriorate before his eyes is merely his punishment, a reminder why the Legion preached no attachments, no families. It had been long enough he’d long forgotten the pain of loving someone- of losing someone. He doesn’t weep, as some distant voice told him he ought to. He suspects that’s a romanticized remnant of his life before, what he feels is expected of him under the circumstances. Maybe a part of him wants to, but he can force nothing, and nothing comes to him beyond a grim acceptance of what was on the horizon. He tends to them, when he can. Water when they’re parched, a comforting hand when they’re upset. It’s ugly, sickness. They both know it won’t get better. So when it becomes nearly too much for them, when they can’t leave their bed and the light fades from their eyes a little each day, Vulpes does the one thing he has ever done out of love. He mixes half a dozen doses of Med-X in their drink. It’s a soft farewell, and he lets them rest against his chest until the end, and for awhile longer after that.

Joshua- No healer in Zion can figure out what’s wrong. No amount of prayer and none of Joshua’s influence can fix this. He feels an old hatred burning somewhere beyond his ribs, one he hasn’t really felt since before he ended up in a gulch. Worse than before, because it has nothing to focus on, nothing he can direct it towards. It can only sit in his chest and fill his insides as he watches the Courier grow weaker. God had been his answer since he found Zion- every tribulation a test of his faith and his worth. He failed them sometimes, as was to be expected. For the first time, he questions that faith. Why would God bring Six to him, make him share every bit of himself with them, and then rip them away before their time? What was the point? If it was meant to test him, why did He have to rob the world of someone so unassailably good? Why couldn’t he have just taken him instead? He wrestles with these all-consuming questions, but when he looks at Six, curled up in his quarters, he feels an odd sense of calm. He doesn’t want to be angry. He doesn’t want to spend what might be their last days railing against forces beyond his control. Because he loves them. He realizes this too late, but he does. The anger washes away with this thought. He stays by their side through it, letting them curl against him when they grew too sick to leave his bed, reading to them aloud. He leaves his hands without bandages so he can commit the feel of their bare skin to memory while he still can.


	53. Fallout 4 companions first kiss w Sole

ANONYMOUS  
Heyy how about f4 companions react to their first kiss w/ sole ???

 

(Happy belated Valentine’s Day!)

Nick- Their first kiss is electrifying, quite literally. Sole's lips meet his cheek and the tiniest sparks erupt at the contact, making them both jolt. Sole from the shock against their skin and Nick from the electrical signals shooting down his spine. The minor haywire throws his whole system off for the next ten minutes, but part of him has to wonder if all that he felt could be attributed solely to the malfunction and static electricity. They try again a week later, after Nick has gone through some calibrations and tucked away some loose lengths of wire, until he is satisfied that won't happen again. The second time, Sole's lips meet his artificial skin, and their closeness and warmth goes straight to his head. It's not quite as shocking, but he's still left surprisingly light headed afterward. He fidgets a lot the rest of the day to hide the smile that crosses his face at the thought of them.

Danse- He realizes, somewhere in the middle of all they were, how starved for any kind of affection he is. Finding comfort in the company of his squad mates, the occasional shoulder squeeze during moments of stress, it was nothing like being utterly submerged in the waters of someone else's embrace. Every small gesture leaves him gasping for air when he breaks the surface of those waters. He feels pathetic, but when Sole takes the initiative to cup his cheek and kiss him, he whines, actually whines like a kicked puppy to break the contact. It leaves him flushed from more than just embarrassment, which he is, so much so he can hardly instigate another kiss he all but aches for. Thankfully Sole is more intuitive to his feelings than even he is, and their first kiss is followed by another. To Danse, their first kiss isn't the only one. He comes to categorize them in all sorts of compartments in his mind, from their first kiss in Sanctuary to their first morning kiss before either had brushed their teeth. And to the tightly wound Paladin, each is as memorable and special as the first.

Preston- They had been looking out across the water, legs hung over the ramparts of the Castle, when Sole leaned in across his shoulder. Preston at first assumes they intend to lay their head on his shoulder, as they usually did in these quiet moments of contemplation, their hands cupped as they are now. Before his confession, after, the two always found themselves back at the top of these walls to watch the sunset on the ocean. He spots the fin of something underneath the surface and perks up, turning to direct their attention to it. “Look!” is about as far as he gets before lips are on his and the electricity shocking through his system renders him stunned and immobile. He stares, eyes crossed down the bridge of his nose as Sole's blurry face entirely eclipses his sight. When Sole releases him, he falls a little forward with nothing to keep him upright any longer. He manages to catch himself before collapsing in their arms and ducks his head with a sudden shyness, gripping the corner of his hat to tug down over his stupidly grinning face. Heated, caught unaware, and completely, aggravatingly, moronically in love, he wraps an arm around their shoulders and pulls them in close to watch the last shreds of daylight sink into the sea.

Deacon- They come close to a first kiss several times. The first, they are tangled up in each others legs on a lazy afternoon to talk, and when Sole is suddenly above him, leaning in for a kiss, Deacon is overcome with an odd panic. He'd weasled out from underneath them on a transparent and obviously fabricated excuse. After that, whenever they tried again, or asked him for permission, he called upon every bit of subterfuge and spy trickery he had up his sleeve, until his excuses became as flimsy as “I need to wash my hair!” while wringing his wig between sweaty hands. A first kiss in any relationship was as close as one came to sealing their fate, a prospect which, to Deacon, carried the same weight and gravitas as sealing oneself up in a coffin. It meant this was real. Deacon had, by his own design, few real things in his life. It takes time, and eventually he finally accepts that yes, this is something he wants. In his usual stupid fashion, Deacon decides to surprise them with a first kiss while dressed in a fake beard and wobbling around like a too-familiar drunk in the Dugout. He lays a theatrically sloppy kiss on their cheek, and once they'd let go of his arm at the point they could have broken it completely, he grins at them sheepishly from behind his off kilter beard. Their proper first kiss comes by way of apology immediately after this.

Cait- Their first kiss is pretty early into the relationship, and it's just as pushy and aggressive as the woman sharing it with Sole. Rough hands pinning wrists, a needy pining for everything Sole was willing to give, since Cait had always had few precious and soft things to keep for herself. Honestly, she expects the relationship to not evolve far from where it starts. She was accustomed to rolls in the hay with people who wouldn't look twice at her again. She doesn't even really remember the first kiss, doesn't count it, because their first kiss is softer and quieter than the loud bombast of their actual first time. It's when things are silent, and her mind is wandering, and Sole takes her cheek to kiss her eyelid. It's almost enough to bring her to tears. Soft things like that weren't made for people like her. She takes Sole's face in her hands to admire them, and feels a little stupid for not realizing sooner what this really was.

Curie- Little things Sole did always threw her off her axis. In truth, it was annoying how quickly she could be reduced to rubble by simple affections. A thumb brushing her cheek left electrified trails on her synthetic skin, the warmth of their shared space made the world outside of it seem unbearably cold, how their smile coaxed her to smile in kind. It was very distracting. How was one to focus on their work when they were thinking of someone else? How did humans ever exist together when her existence seemed so dependent on being near this one person? She almost wanted to leave entirely, if her work had any hopes of surviving her ceaseless infatuations. But then the night came when Sole's lips met hers, and she knew she could never leave this person. Every inch of her face flushes and she buries it in her hands, fuming hot between her fingers as she babbles in French, like her language processors had been crossed somehow. “Tu me rends fou! Tu ne peux pas m'embrasser comme ça!” She can do nothing but fume and babble until Sole captures her again in a kiss that steals every word from her mouth. She doesn't mind it so much the second time around. Maybe she doesn't mind existing with them for awhile.

Hancock- A shocking number of people would rather fuck a ghoul than kiss them. That had been Hanock's experience, at least. He had been surprised the number of people still found something attractive in him after he lost all his skin, but that could have just been his prior charm slipping in, as glowing as it had ever been. The funny thing was, the people that would fuck a ghoul weren't always the same ones that would kiss one. It was 'exotic', something you had to try at least once to figure out if you cared to do it again. He'd never minded it all too much. At first, he'd sort of expected Sole to be the same way. When they actually do lean in and kiss him, he feels a jolt like nothing he'd experienced before, except maybe the sparse raider with a cattle prod. His guts feel so tight from the simple display of affection he can hardly breathe at first, and when he does, its constricted in his throat by the lump he suddenly finds there. He sinks his head against theirs with a soft, astonished laugh.

MacCready- A first kiss was far from his mind. He was content to take them at whatever pace Sole was willing to set. At the end of the day, he's just happy to have them at all. When Sole takes his chin, guides him away from his idle disassembling of his rifle and kisses him, he freezes, as though his world will shatter if he moves. It takes a moment after they break the contact for his breath to come back to him. All he can really do is give a stunned little laugh before he throws his arms around their waist to pull them as close as possible, kissing them back tenfold. He wants to give back every ounce of love they give him. He wants to pour every sweet word and touch he would never get to share again with Lucy, because he knows how temporary things like love are in the Wastes. If either of them didn't make it to tomorrow, lost to whatever was thrown at them, he wants nothing to be left unsaid, and reciprocates their affection as if his life depends on it.

Piper- She's content enough at first to talk, learn everything there is to know about Sole, everything she can think of to tell them in turn. Her life hasn't exactly been as action packed as theirs, but more than anything, she loves to listen to them talk, map out the shape of their hands with her own, hear even the tiniest, inconsequential details of their life. Kissing is sort of an afterthought that never really crosses her mind during these sorts of talks. She's more than content to do just that- talk. She doesn't notice Sole staring at her as she's going on about one of Nat's school stories, how she'd back talked a teacher and Piper was too proud of her to punish her, when Sole kisses the corner of her mouth, stopping her dead. She stares up at them in silence, with only a soft, shaky laugh escaping her. “Blue... Y-Y'know, you, you uh-” As she's about to launch into a nervous tirade, unable to stop herself, they kiss her again, cutting her off. She ought to be a little offended but her head is too full of clouds to process the offense, and she wraps her arms around their neck instead. She'll have more to tell them later.

X6-88- His only real reaction to the contact is to stare at them somewhere between a blank and confused expression. Sole always has sort of vexed him, the way they act in his presence, laugh at things he says, and once, they even touched his face, which he still had no explanation for. “What was that?” They smile at him. “I don't know, you just looked kissable.” “Kissable.” As they're about to explain the word, as they often have to with him, they stop. “You've never... You don't know what kissing is, do you?” It had never really come up in all his programmed knowledge. Then again, lots of things never came up. Anything that didn't have to do with things he needed to know to hunt and kill were of little importance to the Institute. So he shakes his head. Their explanation is more... hands on than it usually is, once they grow frustrated trying to put words to something they say there are no real words for. X6 would almost have to agree. Saying people put their lips together to show affection was different than feeling Sole in his space, chest against his, skin on his. He feigns ignorance for a few tries until Sole catches onto his ruse.


End file.
